


Three Hearts Are Better than Two

by phantomspannah



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005), Sherlock (TV), Torchwood
Genre: Awkwardness, Disaster Lesbians, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/F, Fluff and Humor, Geek Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-09-13 07:49:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 36
Words: 70,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16888521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantomspannah/pseuds/phantomspannah
Summary: "Why does your Mum think we're seeing each other?"Can Yaz overcome her awkwardness and seize the day? Can the Doctor get through any encounter without accidentally injuring herself or Yaz? Queue a series of increasingly flirty encounters through time and space (also feat. Wholock and Torchwood).





	1. A Purple Sofa

**A Purple Sofa**

“Spiders! Americans! And tea at Yaz’s!” the Doctor practically skipped back into the TARDIS, borne along by the thrill of another adventure bested.

Yaz followed after, grinning at the bouncing figure ahead, “Ha ha – it was only a quick cuppa and a few custard creams, Doc!”

The Doctor rounded on her, still grinning, “What do you mean _only_ a cuppa? Best tea I’ve had in years. What was it again?”

“Yorkshire Gold – Mum’s favourite.”

“Gold?”

“Yeah, it’s just a tea brand?”

The Doctor shook her head with exasperation, “Just? _Just_? Honestly, it was brilliant! And those biscuits? Custard? Well not only are they delicious,” she licked her lips at the memory, “but they remind me of… something I can’t put my finger on right now…”

“Trifle? Jelly? Pie?” Yaz proffered.

The Doctor furrowed her eyebrows, “Nope, something warmer, and crunchy…”

“Sure you’re thinking of custard, not grav-”

“FISHFINGERS!”

Yaz raised a sardonic eyebrow, “What?”

“Ooh they’re amazing – perfect combination. I wonder if I’ve got any around here…” And with this the Doctor flew to a series of previously unnoticed cupboards on the wall and proceeded to throw items around in a frenzied search.

Rolling her eyes and deciding to leave her to it, Yaz put the kettle on and rustled two cups and teabags out from under a counter. With the water bubbling away nicely and crashing sounds emanating from across the room, she allowed herself a few minutes to sit and mull over the events of the day. There had been several hairy moments, but they had all scraped through somehow, no thanks to a meddling American businessman and some poorly-planned waste disposal. She grinned to herself as she remembered the delight on the Doctor’s face at being invited back for tea and the incessant chatter that had given even her mother a run for her money. Graham and Ryan had made a swift exit as soon as they deemed it polite and were off for the evening to sort out some of Grace’s things in the flat. She gave a sad smile thinking of the vibrant matriarch, made slightly sweeter by the knowledge of the blossoming familial relationship between Ryan and Graham.  

Water boiled, the kettle whistled at her - the curious mix of old and new technology that the TARDIS seemed to spout at every time. Making up two mugs of steaming tea, she made her way over to the newest item of furniture in the ship.

“Huh-hmm,” she cleared her throat and wait for the Doctor to look over. The Doctor however, was by now shoulders-deep in a strange collection of crisps, Christmas lights, and some sort of white fluff.

She tried again, but louder, “HUH-HMMM!” and the Doctor whirled around, lights draped fetchingly over one shoulder.

“Yaz? You ok?” She sounded concerned.

“Yes, I’m fine. Got you a cuppa and something to show you.”

Yaz grinned as she beckoned the Doctor over, patting the item just behind her. As she approached, the Doctor’s narrowed eyes suddenly lit up and her mouth dropped open.

“Is that?”

“Yup”

“No…”

“Yup”

“A PURPLE SOFA?!”

Rolling her eyes and grinning, Yaz had just enough foresight to put her own cup down on a shelf before she was lost in a tangle of excitable arms, legs, and fairy lights.

“Doctor!” She playfully tried to push her companion away, laughing into the mess of blonde hair.

But the Doctor didn’t let go and all that Yaz succeeded in doing was knocking them off balance. The next thing she knew was that she was pressed into the sofa, a still ecstatic Doctor giggling on top of her.

Yaz tried to squeak her protests, but all the air felt like it had been knocked out of her. Wriggling underneath the mess of overcoat and hair, she just about managed to shove the warm body slightly off her chest, giving her enough room to catch her breath. Luckily the sofa was deep enough to accommodate the two bodies, and Yaz allowed herself to relax, the Doctor’s head resting on her abdomen and two arms still wrapped tightly around her back 

“Yaz this is brilliant. A sofa! And purple! I mean, fantastic!” The Doctor beamed up at her  from, her grin a forcefield of joy.

“No – problem –“, Yaz panted out, still slightly out of puff, and patted the spot between the Doctor’s shoulder blades where her arm rested 

“You’re the best! How did you even get this magnificent beast of a sofa in here?” 

Yaz grinned, “Well it was in our spare room for ages, and I asked the boys on their way out if they wouldn’t mind rehoming it?”

The Doctor bit her lip slightly, “Well as long as Graham comes back with his spine still aligned, it was worth it!”

“Ha, it’s not Graham I’d be worried about,” Yaz’s eyes crinkled as both of them snorted with laughter.

Breathing returned to normal, Yaz tried to shift herself into a slightly more dignified position but stopped when she felt the Doctor’s fingers tighten around her jacket.

“Doctor?”

The Doctor looked up at her again, eyes reflecting the string of LED lights scattered around them.

“Oh, go on, one more minute? It’s been ages since I had a proper cuddle on a sofa.”

Yaz went to reply but found she couldn’t and just stared back.

“Oh please? One minute?” The Doctor was all puppy-dog eyes.

Mouth dry and slightly open, Yaz managed a nod in return and the Doctor sighed, resting her head back against Yaz’s stomach.

What was going on? Why had her words suddenly abandoned her? Yaz gulped, not really wanting to think about the answer, knowing that the answer was most likely something to do with this fantastic, gorgeous alien lying across her, breath warming her skin through her thin shirt. Nope, definitely not something she could think about right now 

“Yaz?”

Her name made her jump, concentrating as she had been on simultaneously lying as naturally as possible whilst not moving a muscle.

“Hmm, yeah?” she coughed slightly, causing the Doctor’s head to bounce lightly against her abdomen, nerve endings suddenly alight. Why was it so dark in here? Why were they lying on this sofa, alone, lit up only by the intimate glow of fairy lights?

“Why did your mum think we were seeing each other?”

The words were spoken so casually, the way the Doctor always voiced such naïve queries. Yet Yaz thought there was a slight catch in the usual Northern tenor 

“Uh,” she floundered, “I dunno – Mum – she can be a bit weird sometimes.” She hoped her gabbled reply wouldn’t betray the way her heart felt as it pounded in her throat.

There was silence for a few, heavy seconds, and then a quiet “oh”.

After what felt like another few hours, the Doctor spoke again, her words felt more than heard as they vibrated through Yaz’s abdomen.

“So we’re not?” The words were half question, half statement of fact.

Yaz once again had no words. What could she say? What should she say?

“Yaz? Are you ok?” The Doctor looked up at her again, a strange look in her eyes.

Yaz felt heat creep up her already flushed face, and opened her mouth to reply when-

_CRINCH!_

“NNNGGGHHH!” A searing pain had shot through her lower abdomen. The Doctor jumped up - almost careering over the edge of the sofa – and they both looked down to see a welt of blood soaking through Yaz’s pink shirt.

 

***** TO BE CONTINUED *****


	2. One Handed

**One Handed**

 

“Gahh!” Yaz screwed her face up while the Doctor knelt over her, sonic out and peering at the wound in her companion’s abdomen.

“I’ve been shot!” Yaz gasped, “I’ve been shot!" 

The wound pulsed, oozing fresh blood, and Yaz was back there instantly. Back to the darkness of the dank, little side-street, the acrid smell of forgotten rubbish bins wafting up her nose as she crept forward. She could feel the heavy jangle of her equipment weighing her down, the thin torch-beam quivering in front of her as she tried to steady her nerves. Then the blur of movement and noise, the flash of pain, the white warmth that seemed to spread from her middle up to her eyes. Then nothing but an aching blackness and the sorrow of the world falling from her.

“Yaz!”

The world shifted slightly more into focus. She was suddenly aware of warm hands, a shadowy face, and that throbbing pain.

“YAZ!”

Yaz blinked, head spinning; her vision and pain returning with equal clarity. She saw her the Doctor bent over her, forehead creased with worry, casting over her rapidly with pin-prick eyes. She felt the soft heat of something against her cheek, and realised it was a hand.

“Doctor?” 

“Oh, thank goodness! Yaz, you scared the living consciousness outta me!”

“Doctor,” Yaz panted painfully, “I’ve been sho-”

“Yaz, listen.” The Doctor leant in a little closer, running her thumb across Yaz’s cheek, “You’ve not been shot. It’s ok - I’ve got you. Just breathe.”

Meeting her gaze, Yaz tried to match her breathing with the Doctor’s. Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in – she tried to focus on the Doctor, swimming deep into the twin pools of glittering hazel. She saw sharp shards of gold that blended into deep mossy green, the way sunlight plays off an autumnal pool, and the dark centre that seemed to be growing, filling the twin orbs with a heated black. 

“Yaz?”

“Hmm?” she was shaken, blinking, from her reverie.

“Yaz, are you ok? Yer heart’s still racing.” The Doctor hadn’t dropped her gaze, still laced with anxiety.

Yaz shook herself, taking a deep breath, and dropped her gaze.

“Yeah, yeah, sorry. It’s the pain,” she said, her head still full of deep pools and dilating pupils.

“Ok, yeah,” Yaz missed the slight frown on the Doctor’s face. Then it seemed as one that they remembered their predicament.

“Not shot?”

“Oh, Martians above!”

The Doctor slipped easily back into her role of protector and explainer.

“Yeah, not shot! Christmas lights.”

“What?”

“Christmas lights, well technically, Christmastown lights. Wrapped round me, I landed on you, must have broken when I tried to get up. Appeared to have,” she cast her eye down at Yaz’s lower half, “pierced your lower left quadrant, missed the spleen though from what I can tell. Spleens are funny things aren’t th- " 

“Doctor?”

Glancing up the Doctor saw Yaz rolling her eyes, wincing slightly in pain.

“Oh, right! Sorry, babbling. Yes, fixing… fixing…”

Yaz groaned, both at the ridiculousness of the Doctor and at the ache of her injury. She tried to sit up and see what was happening, but the pain stabbed at her and she lay flat again.

“Hmm, yes, best you don’t look at this bit of whizzery-pokery,” the Doctor muttered, “could be bit tricky." 

“Tricky?”

“Oh you know, arteries and all that gubbins?”

“Gubbins?”

Suddenly cottoning on to the worried tone, the Doctor looked up and flashed her companion a warm ‘I’ve got you’ smile, before slipping her left hand into Yaz’s right and squeezing tight.

“Thanks, Doctor,” Yaz squeezed back, “but won’t you, um, need this hand for… um… gubbins and tricky?”

This time the Doctor rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue just a tiny bit. “Honestly, you humans! Always needing two hands for everything. You’d be amazed at what I can do with just one little finger, never mind one hand!”

Yaz snorted and unconsciously squeezed the Doctor’s hand tighter still, words somehow spilling unchecked from her mouth.

“Ha, if I didn’t know better, I’d say that was almost flirting for you, Doctor.”

Not missing a beat, the Doctor looked up, grinning like a shark and winked.

“Who said I wasn’t?”

Yaz’s breath caught in her throat before… “Gahh!” The groan slipped through Yaz’s gritted teeth as a sudden, searing pain set her nerves alight again.

Face falling instantly, the Doctor shot an apologetic glance up at Yaz.

“Sorry, might have dropped my sonic in the middle of a delicate bit.”

Rolling her eyes, hand now painfully locked into the Doctor’s, Yaz let out a careful breath.

“Thought you were good with one hand?”

Snorting, the Doctor raised one eyebrow without taking her eyes off the job in hand.

“Didn’t say which one though?" 

Yaz grinned up at the ceiling, concentrating on being as still as possible and definitely not letting her mind wander. Nope, not a good idea.

“Done!”

“Huh?” Yaz sat up slightly and looked down at where the Doctor still knelt over her, free hand raised up in celebration.

“All done! And cleaned. Not bad job all in all. Feel free to thank me and my magic hand.” She mimed a wand movement with her right and gave a quick squeeze with her left which was still trapped in Yaz’s.

Sitting up properly, Yaz looked down and saw the damp redness of her once-pink shirt slid up over her now completely healed abdomen. Gingerly she reached out her left hand to touch the area where the pain had resonated from, and found –

“Nothing?”

“All gone! Told you it was magic,” the Doctor grinned at her, face lit up with adrenalin and pleasure, “no scar, I’m _that_ good.”

“You really are,” Yaz wondered, absentmindedly running her fingers across the dark, unblemished skin.

“Sorry about the blood though,” the Doctor frowned slightly. “Never been much good with fabrics – more likely to set ‘em on fire than clean ‘em.”

“I thought you were that good?” Yaz grinned, mischief and relief mingled in her features. 

“Oi!” the Doctor pushed at her playfully, “I just fixed you! How about some gratefulness?”

Still grinning, Yaz batted her back.

“Would it help if you had your good hand back?"

“That would be a good start - it could do with a bit of circulation,” the Doctor mocked lightly, extracting her slightly mangled hand and rubbing it with the other.

“Well I would give you a hug, but…”

“But what?” The Doctor’s jaw was slightly agape.

Yaz didn’t answer but gesticulated vaguely at the Doctor.

“What? I fix you with some magnificent medico-jiggery, leave the slightest drop of blood on your shirt and suddenly I’m not good enough for a hug? Oh, come on, no giggling now.” She sounded unusually peeved.

“No!” Yaz spluttered out through fits of laughter, “the lights you muppet!”

“Huh?”

Rolling her eyes with a sardonic sigh, Yaz prodded the string of still-flashing Christmastown lights. 

“I’m all up for a hug, but not for another stabbing. Does that seem fair?”

Relief visibly lighting up the Doctor’s face, there was a slight pause before the flurry of movement that resulted in a flying string of lights and Yaz suddenly engulfed in a tight, warm, and thankfully painless, hug.

After a few moments Yaz felt a humming breath against her cheek. Realising that the Doctor was trying to talk, she loosened her hold and leant back a little, still close enough to see the widening pools of the Doctor’s pupils. 

“Huh?”

“I said, ‘that’s a good start’."

Enjoying this playful side of the Doctor, Yaz cocked her head to one side. “Oh yeah, magic hands? I mean, I did bring you this sofa and you were the one who accidentally stabbed me, but sure, how else shall I go about repaying this great debt?”

The Doctor’s eyebrow flickered, and she uttered the one word Yaz could never have predicted. 

“Shower?”

***** TO BE CONTINUED *****


	3. Wet and Dry

**Wet and Dry**

 

“Show-wha?” Yaz trailed off, completely thrown off track.

“Shower?” The Doctor tapped her on the side of her head, half-grinning, “Don’t tell me I accidentally stabbed you in the head too?”

Not waiting for an answer, she got up and pulled Yaz to her feet with a muttered ‘come on, you’, and half-dragged her off in the direction of one of the many corridors that popped up seemingly at random. Yaz stumbled after her, heart doing dizzying back-flips whilst her mind tried to reason with itself. Surely the Doctor couldn’t mean –

“Oh, come _on_!” The Doctor halted so suddenly that Yaz crashed into her, almost toppling both of them over. “This isn’t Hogwarts, just give me the right corridor?” She waved her fist at the air around them and turning on Yaz, shook her head in mild frustration, “Honestly, how hard can it be to find a shower in a pinch?” She spun on the spot, casting around wildly for another door or passageway until Yaz tapped her gently on the shoulder.

“Sorry, Doc, but I’ve got to ask – why do we suddenly need a shower?”

Rolling her eyes as if it were the most obvious answer, the Doctor tugged at Yaz’s shirt, “Look, we’ve gotta get you wet and quickly!" 

Swirling round again she started shouting at the ceiling again - miming rainfall with both her hands - and completely missing the moment Yaz’s face flushed scarlet.

Yaz was completely at a loss. She stood stock still, mind running overtime trying to fathom what was going on and how she was supposed to respond. Was the Doctor losing her mind, or was she trying, however haphazardly, to flirt? The former was more likely, but the latter, well, that had possibilities. Hot, exciting possibilities. Did she dare think –

Luckily, she was saved further thinking by the sudden downpour that now doused the two of them in warm water.

“Seriously? Me and you will be ‘aving words later.” The Doctor shook her fist at thin air one last time before she turned again to Yaz, shrugging slightly and grinning apologetically, “Well, it’ll ‘ave to do.” She then reached forward to tug at Yaz’s shirt again.

Yaz, having given up on trying to understand their situation, allowed herself to be pulled forward. Heart thundering and barely breathing, she let the warm hands drag her closer, their bodies inches apart. She daren’t catch the Doctor’s eye until she had her body a little more under control, so she concentrated on the pale hand that was gently fingering the fabric of her once pink shirt. Nope, this was not the right place to look either. Swallowing hard, she looked up to the ceiling, closing her eyes against the indoor rainfall. However, she was now far too aware of her other senses, feeling fingers ghost against the skin of her recently healed midriff and a strange heat spreading from where their bodies almost joined at the middle.

“Yaz,” the Doctor’s voice was soft, “look.” 

“I, er…” her reply felt raw in her throat, “I’m not sure now’s a good time, Doc.”

“No, seriously, look.” The Doctor sounded pleased with herself.

Taking a large gulp of oxygen, Yaz let her head fall. Seeing that the Doctor was staring intently downwards, she followed her gaze and at last landed on –

“My shirt?”

“Course! Brilliant, eh?” The Doctor beamed at her, letting the fabric of the now clean, but thoroughly soaked pink top fall back against Yaz’s abdomen,

“How?”

The Doctor waved the sonic in one hand, as if this answered all further inquiries. Seeing the blank expression on her companion’s face, she elaborated. “Told yer – sonic has a tendency to set things on fire when I clean them.”

And suddenly the pieces fell into place. 

“The shower!” The Doctor nodded. “You needed it to put out the fire?” More nodding. “So, all of this was just to –”

“Clean that lovely shirt of yours, yup.” The Doctor smiled openly, “And I couldn’t have you bleeding all over our nice new sofa either.” She stuck out her tongue with a grin.

“Ah.” Yaz was flooded simultaneously with relief and disappointment, but she grinned back all the same, “Well, thanks.”

“It’s a nice shirt – I didn’t want you losing it,” the Doctor shrugged, before adding with a wicked grin, “Well not unless you wanted to?” 

Yaz simply laughed, “Doc, that line is complete cheese!”

“What sort of cheese?” the Doctor looked genuinely puzzled, hands on hips and squinting at Yaz through the downpour. “Do you mean that it has holes in, or that it’s good on toast, or -”

“You’re such a dork, sometimes,” Yaz sighed happily, “now are we gonna find some towels or something?”

“Towels and cheese?”

“Doctor, I am gonna make a sandwich out of you in a minute… towels! I mean, it may have escaped your notice but we’re a little damp?” This woman could be adorably frustrating at times.

“Oh, _towels_! Why didn’t you say something?” Ignoring Yaz’s spluttered reply, the Doctor dragged them off to a room down yet another corridor. Practically falling through the door, she steered them both over to a huge gridded vent in the centre of the small room. 

Yaz looked around them, puzzled.

“Doc, I don’t mean to be rude, but I think you’ve gotten the wrong room again.”

“Wait.” 

“For what, Doctor? There’s no towels?”

“Just – ah, here it comes! Hold on!”

Worried, Yaz looked around quickly, “here comes what, now?”

The Doctor said nothing, but ginned again, and took one of Yaz’s hands in each of her own, so they were facing each other. Yaz opened her mouth again, but closed it again, a silent admission of trust in the face of what had so far been organised chaos.

Then it came. The whoosh of warm, perfumed air, up from the vent and blasting all around them. Then –

“WOAH!”, Yaz yelped as the wind lifted them both up from the ground, the force of it kicking their legs and bodies out as they floated aloft.

“AMAZING, YEAH?” the Doctor had to shout to be heard, beaming at her.

“BETTER – IT’S BRILLIANT!” Yaz shouted back, letting her body ride the air currents.

She caught the Doctor’s eye and felt happiness wash over her. She could feel the warm air drying every inch of her, whilst a gentle electrical current seemed to originate from where her hands interlocked with the beautiful, mad woman. The Doctor looked strange, no, not strange, free. Her worry-lines were ironed out, and any weight on her shoulders seemed to have floated off with the water. They sailed the currents together, enjoying just being like this; warm and laughing, bathed in a golden glow. If Yaz had ever needed a happy place to return to in darker times, this would be it. A memory she would treasure, always.

But too soon the gusts began to subside, gently letting them glide to the floor, which was soft on landing thanks to a shallow, cushioning layer of air. They lay curled next to each other, giggling euphorically, eyes glittering with the wonder of such a moment shared. 

“Your face!”

“Oh come on, Doc, how was I to know we were going skydiving?”

“Sky what? Diving? There’s a reason humankind only makes it to the 51st century!”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Haha, yeah, course!” the Doctor paused and smiled mischievously, “78th at the very least, wanna see?”

“What, really?” Yaz’s eyes lit up, full of wonder.

“Follow me!” 

With remarkable speed, the Doctor was up and pulling Yaz to her feet, before dragging them out of the door and straight into –

“The console room? Is this a backdoor?”

“Honestly, no idea, my ship has a mind of its own,” the Doctor shrugged it off, striding excitedly over to the control panel.

To be fair, Yaz thought, this was one of the least surprising events of what was shaping up to be a most unusual evening. Making her way over to the row of instruments, she could already see the Doctor’s hands twisting dials and jamming levers into place.

“Gimme a hand?” The timelord looked up, beckoning Yaz over to the adjacent panel.

“Sure,” Yaz smiled as she stepped into position, “But you should know I have absolutely no clue what any of these buttons do.”

“Me neither,” the Doctor grinned back.

“What?” Yaz exclaimed, “How on Earth are you able to fly it then?”

“Not it, _her_ ,” the Doctor corrected, “She’s a magnificent creature, but dreadfully temperamental if you get on her bad side.”

“Sorry, ok, her, how do you fly _her_?” 

“I guess,” the Doctor pondered, twizzling another knob, “It’s more of a feeling than an exact science. Here,” she gestured, “Gimme your hand.”

She wrapped Yaz’s palm around a lever that looked a little like a gear-stick and covered it with her own paler one.

“Can you feel that?”

“Feel what?”

“Wait a minute, let’s just adjust this,” the Doctor said, stepping behind Yaz and leaning round her other side to dial a switch up slightly. In doing so, she pressed the length of her body to Yaz’s, causing the younger woman to gasp slightly in surprise.

“You ok? D’ya feel it yet?” The Doctor straightened up again, right hand still wrapped around Yaz’s on the lever, left resting lightly on Yaz’s hip as she remained in place behind her. 

“Mmm, definitely something,” Yaz stuttered, not knowing how she was supposed to maintain her composure with the Doctor pressed up against her and breathing across the nape of her neck. Stuff like this needed to stop happening if she had any chance of keeping those distracting thoughts to herself, Yaz thought desperately.

“Not quite,” the Doctor muttered softly, and slid her hand tantalisingly down Yaz’s, before tilting their wrists a millimetre to the left, and suddenly –

“ _Wowww_!” Yaz breathed out in shock as a sudden tingling sensation ran up her arm. She couldn’t explain it, but she suddenly knew with certainty what to do. It was as though she was suddenly one with the TARDIS. She understood how and where and what. Grasping the lever more firmly, she leaned into it, feeling the Doctor lean with her, and the ship below her feet seemed to leap into action.

“’Mazing isn’t it?” the Doctor hummed into her ear, causing another delightful shudder to run through her. This was too much. Yaz leaned back into the timelord, her left hand catching the hand at her waist and pulling it around her. She had no idea what she was doing, but the TARDIS had infused her with something and it willed her on. She leaned her head back onto the Doctor’s shoulder, feeling the timelord’s breath catch. She felt rather a warm nose nudge her cheek and caught a whispered something in her hair.

“- let go.”

She smiled, skin tingling and nerve-endings alight. She let go.

And just like that, her world was plunged into a sudden, painless darkness.

 

***** TO BE CONTINUED *****


	4. A Bump in the Dark

**A Bump in the Dark**

Yaz opened her eyes slowly, blinking into the darkness. She could faintly make out the console, bathed in a glowing amber light, though something was wrong. Why was the console on the ceiling? Come to that, why was the room spinning around her, and what was that cold tug at her heel? She tried to stand up but couldn’t find the strength. Girl, she reprimanded herself, what have you been drinking? 

Somewhere that word struck a chord – drinking… tea? Tea and fairy lights and showers and gusts of warm air and…

“Doctor?” The word sounded timid in the swinging, glowing space.

The console. She looked at it again, staring up as it swung from side to side. She looked up, and then looked down. 

“Oh, crap!”

She had been wrong. It wasn’t the console on the ceiling, it was her. She was suspended upside down, swinging by her ankle which had been caught in some trailing wires.

“How did I get up here?” she muttered, trying to chivvy her panicked thoughts into coherence. She frowned, calling up memories of consoles, of hands, of warm breath-

“Now is not the time for that,” she shook her head, “the Doctor needs me to concentrate, to-”

But where was the Doctor? Suddenly panicked again, she cast around for a familiar bouncing figure. Nothing. But… what was that crumpled shadow in the corner?

“Doctor?!”

The shadow groaned, and a pale hand emerged from under it.

“DOCTOR!”

No more noises or movement.

“Double crap!” Yaz breathed out heavily through gritted teeth. “Ok, right, cool. So you’re swinging from the rafters, and the Doc is, at best unconscious, at worst –”

She stopped. She couldn’t finish that thought. Instead, she breathed in deeply, casting her mind back to that golden, giggling moment from earlier, her own calm in the storm.

“Come on, Khan,” she rallied herself, “You’ve got this. Just get down from the rafters, rescue the Doc, and there’s probably still time for a quick cuppa before the boys get back.”

Easier said than done, she thought, as she felt up to the wire around her ankle. Right, so that wasn’t too firmly stuck – the difficulty was not in the getting down, but in the getting down without causing grievous bodily injury. She was, at an estimate, a good few metres up.

“Ok, Khan,” she rolled her shoulders, bracing herself, “Plan B was better anyway.” 

Gritting her teeth, she swung her arms back and the forth, using the momentum to swing her towards the central stalk of the console. Plan B involved grabbing said stalk and shimmying her way gracefully down to ground level. Plan B, however, hadn’t accounted for the wire she was suspended from becoming slack a millisecond before contact with the railings. She had enough time to shriek in surprise, before she slammed into the metal at full tilt, before slithering unceremoniously to the floor completely winded.

Clasping at her chest, Yaz took a minute to grasp this absurd victory. Feeling the new scratches and bruises blossoming over her limbs, she grimaced slightly – her job was peppered with small injuries like this, but she hadn’t felt this beaten up for a while. Her job – it felt like a lifetime ago, not just those few weeks she had spent adventuring with the Doctor. The Doctor.

“CRAP!” she had almost forgotten again.

Shooing away thoughts of concussion, she got gingerly to her knees and, not trusting herself to stand, crawled painfully over to the shadowy mass in the corner of the room. Tugging at what appeared to be a velvety drape, Yaz uncovered a shock of blonde hair and almost passed out from relief when she saw the regular rise and fall of the Doctor’s chest below. 

“Doctor,” she grasped the nearest shoulder and gave her a shake.

“Mmmssstooearly,” a mumbled reply greeted her.

“What?”

“Sssnottime.”

The Doctor’s eyes were closed, but she appeared to be rising up from some deeper consciousness level.

“Come on, Doctor, it’s time you got up” Yaz sighed, exasperation replacing her anxiety.

“Noooo,” the Doctor mumbled pathetically, trying to bat Yaz’s hand away, “Youalwaysleaveandssscoldwithoutcuddlessss.”

Smirking to herself, Yaz realised the Doctor was inexplicably asleep.

“Honestly, Doc, the whole world could fall apart, and you want to nap?”

“Yaznap. Yaznice. Yaztime.”

“Yes, Yaz nice, but Yaz won’t be very nice if you don’t wake up soon,” the young officer shook the timelord’s shoulders more firmly, giving them a slight pinch. This seemed to do the trick, and a suddenly awake Doctor sat bolt upright, Yaz ducking just in time to avoid a collision and further head injury. 

“What? Where? Why?” Confusion plastered the Doctor’s face.

“You were asleep, we’re in the TARDIS, and I’ve no real explanation for that last part,” Yaz chuckled, despite herself. “But safe to say you’re so not a morning person?”

The Doctor blinked slowly, patting herself down as though checking for injury, but on reaching a secondary pocket near her breastbone, she sighed “aahhh.”

“Aahh?”

“Somnobust”

“Somno-what?”

“Somnobust – instant sleep!”

“Well I’m glad we cleared that up,” Yaz grinned wryly. 

“S’basically an oil you can sniff if you’ve trouble dropping off. Think, lavender,” the Doctor spread her hands wide, alight with the thrill of an explanation, “but an entire field distilled into a single drop. One sniff, and poof,” she mimed excitedly, “instant sleep!” 

“Could’ve done with that during my A Levels,” Yaz enthused, “but what’s it doing in your pocket?”

“Present for the Marquis of Roïg, ruler of the 78th Century. Terrible sleeper but makes the best latte I’ve ever had.” The Doctor looked sadly down at the crushed vial she now held in her fingers, “must’ve crushed it when we crashed.” 

She paused, looking around at the disarray of the console room. 

“Wait a tic – how did we crash? I remember helping you steer her, then ye went a bit woozy, so I told you not to let go and –” 

“Ah.” Yaz, looked guiltily at her.

“Is that a good, ah?” the Doctor raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, about that, Doc.” Yaz was now staring intently at her fingernails, “I thought you said: ‘let go’, and, well, I let go…”.

“No, no, I definitely said ‘ _don’t_ let go’.” 

“Sorry,” Yaz looked on the point of tears, “it was just that the TARDIS was all tingly and whoosh, and you were all breathy and close and tickling my neck, and… and…” She tailed off, lamely, face bright red.

The Doctor considered her companion for a second (tucking away small titbits for processing later) before she laughed softly through her nose.

“Right pair we are.”

Daring to meet her eye, Yaz found the Doctor smiling beatifically, a slight hint of mischief hidden in amongst those ever-present worry-lines.

“Agreed,” the younger woman smiled back, accepting the truce. She paused for a second, before adding “Now any chance you’re gonna tell me what ‘Yaztime’ is?”

The Doctor’s cheeks lit up pink and she hastily got to her feet, brushing imaginary dust off her coat, before offering Yaz a hand up.

“Huh-hmm, absolutely no idea about that one, sorry!”

Chuckling to herself, Yaz followed the Doctor over to the double doors of the ship.

“So, 78th century mankind, eh?”

“Yup!”

They pushed the doors open and walked out into a soft twilight, straight into a huge, scaly creature. 

“Nope!” The Doctor retracted her earlier confirmation, and dragged Yaz back inside the ship, slamming the doors in quick retreat. 

They leaned heavily against the blue doors, breathing hard.

“So not human?” Yaz quavered.

“Nope!”

“Dinosaur?”

“Probably?" 

“Wrong planet?”

“Definitely.”

Running over to the console, the Doctor swizzled a few knobs and stared at the read-out while Yaz peered nervously over her shoulder.

“Yaz, c’mere,” the Doctor motioned, grabbing her hand and placing it over one of the larger buttons.

“Woah, Doc! I really don’t think this is a good plan.” Yaz, gabbled, the aborted flight of an hour or so earlier not forgotten.

“It’s ok, just look." 

“What am I looking at?” Yaz was confused, “there’s no lights or anything.”

“Precisely!”

“And that’s good?”

“Nope, definitely bad.”

“Oh,” Yaz’s face fell. “I broke it again?”

“Not it – _her_ ,” the Doctor muttered out of habit, but looking up saw Yaz’s face and quickly added, “and yes, sorta, but don’t worry! We can fix her. I fixed you, after all, and humans are tricksy.” She winked, and Yaz allowed a small smile to cross her face. 

“Ok, but how?”

“Plants!”

Yaz took the bait for the second time that evening – “Plants?” 

Grinning, the Doctor launched into a plan involving chlorophyll, solar energy, and something called Ginkweed, before Yaz homed in on a slightly problematic word. 

“Outside?”

“… I mean they’re just brilliant, really. Living, breathing – um, yes outside?” The Doctor stumbled mid-flow.

“You want us,” Yaz pointed at the two of them, “to go out there?” she motioned at the door, “with those… things?” She stuck two fingers up against her head like horns.

“Well, yeah?” the Doctor stood, hands on her hips, and cocked her head to the side in thought. “Though now I think about it, you’re right, we need a better plan.” 

With this, she dived into a nearby cupboard and emerged with a biscuit packet.

“Cuppa and a hobnob? Now that’s a plan I can get behind,” Yaz brightened at the notion.

“Oh no, these _are_ the plan” the Doctor seemed to think this much was obvious.

“What are we gonna do? Bait the dinos with the biscuits while I sneak out and grab this weed thing?” Yaz, snorted.

The Doctor grinned back at her.

“Of course we are,” the young officer rolled her eyes, “I don’t know why I bother sometimes.”

“Don’t be daft,” the timelord stuck her tongue out, “I like it when you’re bothered.”

Taken slightly aback by this new play, it took Yaz a moment to reply.

“Then you’d do well to remember we’re in this mess because I got all… bothered.”

“Yasmin Khan,” the Doctor stepped nearer to her. “When we get out of this mess, I’m gonna need you to run me through exactly what it is about my breathing that...” she got nearer still, “…bothers you so.”

 _Crunch_. 

Yaz was startled when the biscuit packet crinkled in her grip. When she looked back up, the Doctor was leaning against the railings near the TARDIS doors, face smiling and impossible to read.

Puffing out a short, tense breath, Yaz straightened up and strode over. This was going to be a very long evening.

 

***** TO BE CONTINUED *****


	5. Treetops

**Treetops**

 

“Now just remember, quiet as you can and if it sees ye –”

“Maintain eye contact, yeah I’ve got it, Doc. But aren’t you meant to look away from big creatures – let them know they’re the boss, or something?”

“That’s silverbacks you’re thinking of, but as a rule, the things I run into need to know that you’re both on an equal footing, so don’t even blink,” the Doctor turned to her companion and gripped her knee fiercely, “That’s really important.”

“Ok,” 

“I’m deadly serious. You need to trust me on this one.” There was a strange intensity to the timelord’s expression.

“Doctor,” Yaz’s tone was soft and she took the hand on her knee between her own, giving it a squeeze, “I trust you with my life.” She didn’t know what was causing the light in her friend’s eyes to dim so suddenly, but there was clearly more to this story.

And then a low, gurgling roar cut through her thoughts. 

Yaz and the Doctor were crouched in shrub close to the TARDIS, acclimatising to their new surroundings. However, the shrub smelt suspiciously like cheese on toast and the officer’s empty stomach had finally gotten the best of her.

“Yaz,” the Doctor whispered urgently, “I don’t want to alarm you, but I think there might be a dinosaur in this bush!”

Yaz sniggered into her sleeve.

“Did I say something funny?” the Doctor was baffled.

Failing to speak between snorts of laughter, Yaz pointed at her stomach.

“Yaz,” the Doctor scrunched up her face, “have you eaten a dinosaur?”

Shaking with silent mirth, Yaz motioned to her stomach again, spluttering out “Hungry!”

“Oh? Ohhhhhh,” the Doctor joined in the laughter as realisation dawned on her, “not a dinosaur.”

“Nope,” Yaz’s laughter dried up and her face froze, “but that is.”

“What?”

“RUN!”

 

* * *

 

 

“Those hobnobs saved the day!” Yaz gasped, simultaneously adding the sentence to a mental folder of ‘phrases I never thought I’d say’.

“One of my better plans,” the Doctor nodded tiredly at her, still trying to catch her breath.

They leant back against their respective branches, exhausted smiles mirroring each other. Yaz peered down through the leafy canopy, watching as the scaly creature loped away, a trail of crumbs in its wake. 

“I haven’t climbed a tree since primary school.”

“You’d never’ve guessed, Jungle Jane,” the Doctor quipped with a wink. 

“Cheeky! I saw the way you swung up that vine, Tarzan,” Yaz shot back, “though I’m not sure you could pull off the hairy chest.”

“Oh?” the Doctor raised a mischievous eyebrow, “I’m sure there’s something I _could_ pull off?”

Yaz felt her face flush with heat, but quickly swallowed it back.

“Knowing you, that would probably end with both of us knocked off our perch.”

The Doctor bit her lip, thoughtfully, then snorted softly and changed tact.

“Probably. Now I seem to remember you being a bit peckish earlier…” and she dug around in her coat pockets before drawing out a couple of cheese sandwiches. “Will these appease that creature you call a stomach?”

Relieved, Yaz shuffled along her branch and took one of the paper packages gratefully, “Thanks, Doc, that’s just what I needed.” 

“Any time,” the Doctor smiled back, and settled beside Yaz, their legs swinging out over treetops below.

They ate in companionable silence, washing down the sandwiches with a couple of Ribena cartons, rustled up from the depths of another coat pocket. It was strangely peaceful, staring out over the green and gold landscape, evening light glinting off a distant lake, and the shadows growing longer around them. Yaz felt relaxed and full, exhaling slowly as felt the Doctor’s head come to rest on her shoulder.

“This is brilliant, but, it’s like a film.”

“Oh, your shoulder is comfy and all, but I don’t think it’s exactly Oscar worthy?”  

“I mean, this,” Yaz snorted, waving a hand expansively in front of them, “it’s all a bit Jurassic Park?”

“Ahh,” she could feel the Doctor’s smile against her clavicle, “Top billing, and a pretty accurate rendering of raptor behaviour. Loved the little compys – so cute! Don’t get the whole Goldblum thing though.” 

Yaz chucked wryly, “what, you mean the bit where he’s got his shirt open? My mum and sister think he’s great.”

“And you don’t?” 

“Nah, he’s great and all, but not really my type.”

“Oh, yeah?” there was a momentary catch in the Doctor’s tone, “what’s that then?”

“My type?”

“Yup.”

Yaz considered her reply, slightly blindsided.

“I mean, if a half-naked Dr Malcom isn’t your cup of Yorkshire Gold, then who crosses your box?” the Doctor gabbled on, unable to see the conflicting expressions on Yaz’s features, “I mean – I’m just interested – sorry, not that – I didn’t mean to -”

Yaz gave the timelord a sharp nudge with her shoulder by way of silencing the motor-mouth.

“Firstly,” Yaz rolled her eyes, “those sayings of yours are all over the shop, and secondly,” she bit her lip slightly, “It’s just the ‘Malcom’ part of that sentence that’s not really my type.”

“You don’t like Malcoms?”

The question was so ridiculous, Yaz sniggered.

“Ha ha, yeah, Doc, anyone but a Malcom - that’s my type.”

“Oh good. Does that mean everyone else is in with a chance then?" 

Yaz laughed, hearing a reciprocal grin in the Doctor’s tone. “Sure.”

“So half-naked doctors by any other name would smell as sweet?”

Yaz swallowed loudly.

It was as though someone had turned on a tap and sucked all the oxygen out of the atmosphere. Infinitesimally slowly she turned her head, dusky eyes meeting hazel, and found herself unable to look away. She grasped tightly onto the rough bark of the branch, feeling suddenly dizzy, gravity falling away. Her skin hummed, detecting the slightest of breezes dancing through the foliage; the tickle of blonde hair against her neck; the thumping of a double heart-beat resounding through her. 

She almost felt the dart whistle past her cheek. Almost.

 

* * *

 

The headache woke her; a thick, thudding thing that was tattooing the inside of her skull. Yaz leaned over slightly and vomited as a fresh wave caught her. Blinking her eyes grudgingly open, she felt panic well up inside her. She was blind. All about her was darkness, a deep well of black. The panic bubbled over, consuming her, and she howled her terror to anyone that would listen.

“YAZ!” 

She kept on screaming, she couldn’t help herself.

“YAZ!”

Salt filled her mouth as she wept, unseeing. 

“OFFICER KHAN!”

She stopped, breathing heavily into the blackness. Her training kicking in, recognition giving her hope.

“Doctor?” she trembled.

“I’m here.”

“Where, Doctor? I can’t see you. I’m… I’m…”

“You’re not blind, Yaz.” 

“I’m not?” her relief was palpable.

“I don’t think so, ‘cos if you are, then I am too,” there was a short pause. “Most likely we’re both in a very, very, very dark room. Or a cavern. Or a well.”

“A well?”

“Smells a bit damp down here.”

“Sorry, Doctor, that might be me – think I was sick.”

“Areyouok?” the question was gabbled and slightly panicky.

“Yeah, apart from this blinding headache and my shoulders feeling like they’ve been torn out of their sockets.”

“Ok, good, ok,” she could still hear the concern in the Doctor’s voice.

“I think I just need to stretc-” Yaz’s attempts to soothe the cramp in her arms was soon thwarted, “Um, Doc, why can’t I move my arms?”

She heard a heavy sigh. 

“Because,” the Doctor said, her voice gritty with pain and worry, “they’re tied to mine.”

“Oh.”

“Yup.”

“So…” 

Another long sigh. 

“So, I think we’re in a bit of a tricky situation.” 

And from the darkness, Yaz heard a low growl.

 

***** TO BE CONTINUED *****


	6. Darkness and Light

**Darkness and Light**

 

Yaz froze, her heart thumping, staring wildly around into the pitch black.

“Eek, my bad!”

She jumped when the Doctor squeaked her apology.

“ _What?_ ” 

“Tummy dinosaur – it’s been a while since those sarnies,” she paused, a little guiltily, “think I might've been a bit sick too…”

Yaz’s relief washed over her. “Thought you didn’t do ‘getting sick’?”

“I don’t! Must’ve been something in those darts!” there was another pause, “Honestly! Darts? Archaic or what? I mean, Mesoamerican tribes conquered civilisations with them for a long time, but that was hundreds of Earth years ago. Deadly in their day but can’t see a need for civilised culture to be popping people in the neck with ‘em in this day and age.” 

“Don’t fancy my chances in the Force if they make a return to popularity,” Yaz added, thinking grimly of the dangers officers like herself already faced on a daily basis.

“That’s not gonna happen,” the Doctor assertion was laced with steel. “Not if I have anything to do with it. Hate weapons. Hate anyone or anything using them. Especially when they’re endangering someone I – ”

She trailed off, unfinished thoughts stretching out into the darkness.

Yaz cleared her throat, not sure how else to break the silence. 

“Yeah, anyway,” the Doctor launched back into adventure mode, and it was as though the last few seconds hadn’t happened. “Speaking of danger, we need to get out of this one before someone comes to check on us.”

“That’s more like it!” Yaz enthused, glad to return to normal conversation, that is if you could call any of their escapades ‘normal’. She didn’t know what was going on with the Doctor at the moment but trussed up in a dark cave was not the ideal situation to start unpacking that one in just yet.

“Brilliant!”

She felt the Doctor wriggle behind her, then heard a stumbling thump, closely followed by a groan of pain.

“Doctor, are you ok?”

“Not so brilliant…”

Yaz frowned, “Did you try to get up, fall over, and bash your head?”

“Maybe? Oww…”

“You twerp – I think you might be forgetting something?” Rolling her eyes, Yaz tugged at the rope round their wrists.

“Oh,” the Doctor muttered, sheepishly, “might’ve slipped my mind.”

“Try not to do it again - we’re really racking up those injuries today!”

“Oooh,” the Doctor brightened slightly, “can we get one of those funny human signs that tells you how many days it’s been since the last accident on site?”

Yaz laughed for what felt like the first time in ages, buoyed up by the Doctor’s childish enthusiasm for all things.

“Yeah, course we can, but we need to work on that track record.”

Then the Doctor laughed too, and Yaz began to feel that everything would be alright.

 

* * *

 

“What if I try slipping through it?”

“Nah, we tried that, and your head got stuck, remember?”

“Ah, yeah…” 

They had been at it for at least an hour now but trying to free themselves from the ropes was proving to be very tricky indeed. 

“Ok,” Yaz thought they needed to pause and regroup, “So we can’t pull the ropes apart; we can’t pull the piping out of the floor; and we’ve established that you can’t wriggle through that gap between your wrists.”

“If only my head was a few centimetres thinner!” 

“Doctor,” exasperation coated Yaz’s words, “for the last time, we are not lopping off one of your ears, so you can slither through.” 

“It was good enough for George Weasley!” 

“But worse for your hearing?”

“Yeah, s’ppose I’d have trouble keeping goggles on too.” Yaz could imagine the scrunched up face the Doctor was pulling at that moment. “And my head’s still pretty bashed up from earlier. Thought maybe you should kiss it better?”

“Sure thing,” Yaz muttered distractedly, “if we ever get out of here! Right, Plan D.” 

“Really?”

“Promise. Now, Plan D?”

“D for disaster?”

Yaz laughed, “Yup, that’s the one. I hope you’ve limbered up!”

“Ready when you are!” the Doctor rolled her shoulders and wiggled her neck.

Plan D was last on their list because it entailed trying to untie the knot around the pipe using themselves as the ends of the rope. In short, clambering around and over obstacles and each other in the pitch black sounded like a recipe for chaos and further injury. In preparation, Yaz spent some time feeling the tangled lumps of rope, trying to create a virtual schematic to work from. The Doctor, who had all the spatial awareness of a drunk at a party right now, let the young officer work, humming to pass the time. 

“Right, you got that knot visualised, Yaz?”

“Yup, reckon I’ve got a pretty good idea - Alexander the Great’s got nothing on me.”

“Yaz the Brilliant – that’s you!”

Smirking, Yaz tugged the Doctor’s end of the rope, lining them up for the first manoeuvre.

“Right, concentrate.” 

“I’m all ears”

“Thankfully!” Yaz was rewarded with a short laugh, “Now, do exactly as I say. Seriously, if we put one foot wrong, it’ll undo the whole plan.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“That’s, Officer Khan to you.”

“Of course, _Officer_ ,” the Doctor was all obsequious obedience, but there was something in the phrasing of her title that flushed Yaz’s cheeks with heat. She was briefly very glad for the darkness.

“Right, now follow my lead,” Yaz forced her head back into the game, “Firstly we’ll need to spin once on the spot.” 

Footsteps shuffled in the dark and the Doctor gave the OK. 

“Next, we’re going to have to duck under each other’s left shoulders”

They did this, moving cautiously and slowly with Yaz continuing to coordinate their movements. Halfway through another turn on the spot, the Doctor piped up, clearly enjoying herself. 

“This is like dancing - twirling and ducking and spinning. Weirdly romantic too, all this dancing in the dark.”

“Pipe down, Bruce Springsteen, I’m trying to concentrate.”

“Nice fella - awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom. Mind you, not sure that would count for much now and I’ve got three! Groovy dancer though.”

Only half-listening to her reply, Yaz tried to get them back on track, trying desperately to hold the knot in her mind’s eye,

“I’m sure you’ve got all the moves, Doctor, but can you please stand where you are for a moment.” 

She looped around the timelord a few times, arms raised over their heads, untwisting the tangled ropes from each other. 

“Moves? Oh, I’ve got moves. I can show you moves.”

“Good, good.” Yaz was definitely not listening now, rather concentrating on the final section. “Now, Doc, I need you to focus completely on what I tell you next.”

“Yes, boss.” 

“Right, this is gonna sound a bit mad –”

“I like mad.”

“Good,” Yaz grinned, “because all this concentrating is sending me insane. You owe me big time. Right, one last push!”

She crouched down and made her arms into a loop.

“OK, can you shuffle forwards a bit until you feel my hands near your ankles.”

A slight scuffling was heard and Yaz felt the Doctor’s boots bump her fingers.

“Now carefully step over my hands.”

The Doctor did this, silently concentrating on not stepping on Yaz’s fingers.

“Great,” and Yaz stood up slowly.

“Ooh, this is cosy!” the Doctor commented, standing facing Yaz, encircled by her arms.

Yaz snorted, “Ok, now this is the tricky bit – I need you to sorta twizzle round a few times while keeping your arms above your head.”

“Like one of those ballerina figurines in a music box, yeah?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” Yaz agreed, “but go slowly, ok, if you fall, we both fall over!”

“Bloomin’ cheek,” the Doctor muttered pouting, as she slowly revolved on the spot, hemmed in by the circle of Yaz’s arms, “Like I’m the clumsy one in thi-”

And so saying, she stood on a shoelace, stumbling forwards into an unsuspecting Yaz.

“Woaaaaaaah, there!” Yaz grabbed the back of the timelord’s coat, her quick-thinking saving them both from toppling backwards. Reacting on instinct, the Doctor dropped her arms and held onto whatever part of Yaz she could reach.

They held each other for a few seconds, trying to regain a more stable posture.

“Some ballerina you are!” spluttered Yaz as she burst out laughing, gripping on to the Doctor’s coat for support.

Chuckling with relief, the Doctor tried to apologise, “Sorry! More ‘Nut’ than ‘Nutcracker’, I’m afraid!”

“You said it!”

And as their laughter subsided, Yaz’s became slowly aware of a few things. Her hands were still fisted tightly in the Doctor’s coat, unconsciously pushing the timelord towards her. She also felt a painful tug at the back of her head, where the Doctor’s arms had dropped and caught in her hair, anchoring them together. Lastly, she became acutely conscious of the fact that the Doctor’s face must be only inches from her own. She could feel warm breath against her cheek, tingling as heat spread to the tips of her ears.

The darkness seemed to press in on them, and every sense was heightened, almost painfully so. She felt jolts of electricity shooting up her neck, every hair in her scalp prickling with energy as the Doctor adjusted her grip, releasing the dark locks and bringing her hands to rest on Yaz’s trembling shoulders. She tried to relax the fingers curled in the timelord’s coat, but in doing so found the tips of her fingers burning a brand into the curve of the Doctor’s hip. 

She cleared her throat, mouth dry and barely breathing.

“Doctor?” 

The word hung in the air, heavy and uncertain.

“Yaz.” 

The blackness pressed in further and hummed with tension. 

Yaz swallowed hard. She heard dusty shuffling on stone and felt a shift in pressure on her shoulders. Then heat surged through her as something brushed against her cheek. A warm something. She stood frozen to the spot, thinking that she must have been imagining it. And then she gasped as the Doctor’s nose delicately nudged her own, pointy tip cool against her burning skin. Tantalisingly, it traced a slow line up the bridge to her forehead, before slowly following its smouldering trail back downwards. Barely breathing, Yaz stared wildly into the blackness, every nerve ending firing as the cool tip of that nose dipped lower. 

Then with a white-hot flash and a yelp of pain, she was blinded again.

 

***** TO BE CONTINUED *****


	7. A Daring Escape

**A Daring Escape**

For a few moments there was confusion, pain, and the light that seared Yaz’s retinas. Then her police training kicked in and she began to calm her breathing, starting to filter the important details. Testing the blindness theory, she cracked her eyes fractionally open, and through shuttered eyelashes saw… light. Fantastic, so not blind then? She let her eyelids slowly fall open, allowing her pupils to adjust to the illumination incrementally. Pain now resigned to a dull throb behind her temples, she realised that the source of light was duller than she first realised – a flickering glow from behind a barred door. In the pitch black the slightest spark was like a violent assault on the visual cortex.

The return of her vision brought with it new details that demanded her attention. Firstly, the dishevelled blonde who stood blinking and confused before her. Yaz allowed her eyes to briefly skim over the bruised forehead, cut lip, and, last but not least, the red-tinged cheeks.  Secondly, feeling a tug around her neck, she saw the trailing rope connected to the Doctor’s wrists but freed from the floor pipe, and realised that her crazed unravelling plan had worked. Thirdly, she saw the orange flicker of the strange new light in her peripherals and felt panic rise in her throat.

“FIRE!”

“Hu-wha?” The Doctor’s dazed expression shifted into focus and she stared up at Yaz.

Yaz felt her heart burst with worry. The timelord looked drained and pale, the rollercoaster of emotions and injury had clearly taken its toll. She wondered briefly how hard the Doctor had hit her head in the darkness… But there was no time for that at the moment – she felt panic well up once again as she looked back towards the light and confirmed her fear.

“Doctor, there’s a fire. I don’t know how or why, but we need to move now.”

“Let’s bounce!” The Doctor half-grinned, but Yaz could see the smile didn’t reach her eyes. Something was wrong, but it was going to have to wait.

Trying to seed enthusiasm, the Yaz plastered on a smile, grabbed the still bound hands of her companion and half-dragged her to the nearby door.

“Into the fire out of a frying pan?”

The Doctor’s joke sounded lacklustre, but Yaz laughed anyway. Spirits needed to be kept as high as possible – the first rule of survival.

“It’s our only way out – have you got your sonic?”

The Doctor didn’t answer, but patted down her coat, pulling the instrument out from a deep pocket and proffering it to Yaz.

“You want me to?”

The Doctor nodded, looking more wan by the second. Frowning, Yaz held the sonic up to the various locks on the door, hearing them click as the little tool worked its magic. Pressing the screwdriver back into the Doctor’s shaking palm, the young officer yanked the door back, shielding her eyes from the trail of fire ahead of them.

“ _Crap_!” she swore under her breath, studying the leaping flames in the long passage ahead. It seemed that someone or something had lit this trail – she could see dark patches of some kind of fuel in clumps along the stonework. Who had done this and why? Another question that would have to wait, as for their priority was getting out of here alive. She turned to face the Doctor.

“Ok, if we run we can make it – I think I can see daylight at the other end of this tunnel.”

“Brilliant” the single word sounded dissonant, lacking the musical quality the timelord usually infused it with. 

“Good,” Yaz felt anything but. “We’ll need to go together, mind, as I still can’t get this rope off our wrists and we’re attached. Sonic’s not working on it.”

Silence.

“Doctor, are you ok?”

“I can’t run.” 

“I’m not suggesting we go for gold,” Yaz half-laughed, rolling her eyes, “a fast jog should suffice?”

“I’m so sorry, Yaz.”

“No need to apologise - let’s get going!” the young officer was now confused and worried. What was going on?

She watched as the Doctor took a deep breath and stepped forwards, face scrunching up in pain as her ankle shook and gave way beneath her. She stumbled, Yaz catching her just in time.

“Sorry.” The effort had cost her, and the word was hissed out between gritted teeth.

“ _Damn_!” Yaz was angry at herself for not having spotted the twisted ankle earlier, she could see the swollen joint poking out of the Doctor’s left boot. When had that happened?

“ _Double damn!_ ” Glancing down the corridor, the fire was burning ever fiercer, and parts of the stone wall looked close to collapse, the wooden eaves smouldering threateningly.

The Doctor was leaning against the wall, breathing shallowly, eyes unfocused. 

There was nothing else for it. Yaz took a deep steadying breath and rolled her shoulders, loosening her body up. Then she bent, her shoulder to the Doctor’s waist, and clasped a pale arm about her shoulder, hoisting the timelord up in a fireman’s lift. Ignoring the groans of pain from her companion, she straightened up, keeping her stance as steady as she was able.

With the Doctor held tightly to her, she strode forward, trying to stay as low as she dared and keep both of their faces away from the rising smoke.

 _Step, step, breathe, step, step, breathe._  

She was sweating profusely in the heat and under the dead-weight of the timelord.

_Step, step, breathe, step, step, breathe._

Beads of perspiration blurred her vision, the firelight half-blinding her in its intensity.

_Step, step, breathe._

She could no longer see where she was going. Columns of smoke reluctantly parted as she forced her way on.

_Step, step, breathe._

Her legs felt like jelly, the ground uneven beneath them, but she stumbled on.

_Step, breathe, step breathe._

Hot ash burnt her face and hair, her lungs screaming in agony with every ragged breath.

_Step._

_Step_.

And suddenly –

Air. Daylight. And a semi-circle of wooden-masked creatures awaiting them, spears glinting in the sun. 

“ _NNNGGGHHH!_ ” Yaz shouted in despair, tears of frustration filling her stinging eyes. This was too much. They had almost made it.

 _Almost_. A memory stirred in her.

***

_“I wasn’t sure we’d make it past those Remnants, Doctor,” Yaz confided as they sat together at the console, hot tea cupped in their hands._

_“I s’ppose it was a bit close - just hoped you’d all been getting my hints” the Doctor grinned back, warm and happy._

_“Close?” Yaz rolled her eyes, “Cryptic clues about digging down and what we’d all enjoy after a feast? We were almost toast!”_

_“No,” the Doctor’s face was suddenly serious, “there’s no ‘almost ’when I’m around – not if I can help it. I’ve lost too many people to ‘almost’, Yaz, and I’m not going to let you be one of them,” and she gripped Yaz’s hand tightly in hers._

_***_

“No… NOT TODAY!”

And summoning up the last dregs of her energy, Yaz launched forwards, shouting incoherently. She bowled through the startled creatures like so many skittles and kept on running. Ignoring the jabbering shouts from behind, she gripped the Doctor’s rag-doll frame to her, leaping over boulders and ducking beneath low branches. Skidding around a corner she saw the dinosaur, a great hulking mass of scales and horns, blocking her path with a deafening roaring. 

“BEAT IT, BARNEY!” Yaz yelled, eyes locked with the beast even as she kicked a shower of dust into its face.

Turning on her heel, she saw the flash of blue through the jungle haze and ran flat out, a thundering tonne of furious predator hot on her tail. Heart hammering in her chest, she concentrated all her attention on her target. She could make out the spinning light, the white on black lettering, and the panelled doors which were slowly creaking open.

“Not... fast... enough!” she panted.

Bracing herself, she crashed through the TARDIS doors, unceremoniously dropping the Doctor onto the metal ramp. Springing up with a final effort, she threw her whole body against the doors, hearing a resounding thump as fifteen foot of hurtling dinosaur collided with the impenetrable outer walls. 

She slid to the floor, gasping for air and coughing up thick, black phlegm, her whole body trembling with adrenaline. Through the heartbeat hammering in her ears, she heard a groan and remembered the Doctor. Crawling painfully over, she bent down to check the slumped blonde for vital signs.

“Doctor, can you hear me?”

“Kzzzzitbettttttrr.”

“What?”

“Ooosaid kissit betterrr?” the Doctor slowly raised a sooty wrist and drew it across her bruised forehead, her eyes closed against the TARDIS’ lit interior.

Pulling a ‘you’re such a dork’ face, Yaz laughed softly, “Yeah I guess I did, and I never break my promises.”

Sweeping back a lock of smoky blonde hair from the Doctor’s brow, she bent down gently, pressing her lips to the nasty looking graze at her hairline. Lingering for a moment she breathed in warm skin and a strange citrusy fragrance that she couldn’t quite place. 

The Doctor eyes remained closed, but a small smile spread across her face.

“S’nice thannkoo. Yaztimegood.”

Yaz looked fondly down at the singed, bruised figure, smiling softly as the edges of the world darkened and she slumped into unconsciousness.

 

*** TO BE CONTINUED ***

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad so many of you are enjoying this! I'm having an absolute blast writing my new favourite ship. If you've any suggestions for 'scenes you'd like to see', let me know and I'll see what I can do.
> 
> (Trying to update every other day, but we (non-time-and-space) doctors work long hours, so I'll do my best!)


	8. Bandages and Chips

**Chips and Bandages**

Yaz awoke slowly, dragging herself into the conscious realm with a Herculean effort. Everything felt sore and dense with fatigue, though her head at least seemed to be cushioned on something soft. She cracked an eyelid half-open to assess the situation and was surprised to see the TARDIS’ central console rolling about as though on a ship. Feeling dizzy, she shut her eyes again and swallowed down the rising nausea. The soft cushion below her gurgled into her ear.

 _Hang on_ , she thought, and squinted at the navy expanse before her, which seemed to be rising and falling rhythmically, _that’s no ship_. Experimentally, she prodded the warm surface beneath her, and was rewarded with a surprised squeak.

“Huh?” her thoughts were fuzzy. 

Then she heard a reverberating groan and suddenly found herself sprawled across the cold, metal floor.

“Sorry, but you were lying on my bladder.”

Sitting up with some effort, Yaz looked down to see a dishevelled Doctor sprawled across the floor.

“Shoot, sorry! I had no idea!” she burbled, embarrassed.

“S’ok,” the Doctor smiled up at her, “you seemed pretty out of it, thought you could do with a snooze.” 

“Still, apologies for using you as a cushion.” Yaz ran a hand through her hair, cheeks pink.

“Honestly, least I could do to thank my gallant rescuer!” the blonde reached out to pat Yaz’s knee, “How did we get back? The last thing I remember was tripping over in the dark and you catching me and –”

“Yeah I bet it’s all pretty hazy after that,” Yaz interrupted, not wanting to hear the Doctor’s account of that moment in the blackness. What if she had imagined the whole thing? Worse yet, what if she hadn’t but the Doctor had merely thought it a comforting moment between platonic friends? If that were the case, which was obviously _completely_ fine, Yaz still needed some time to process things – time to be alone with her thoughts and grieve what could never be. So, for the moment that tiny glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, there was a more to this ‘thing’ between them, was all that kept her going. And the Doctor needed her to keep going - she may be awake, but she was obviously still in a great deal of pain.

“Hmmm,” the Doctor fixed Yaz with an odd expression, but said nothing more.

“So, yeah, you tripped and hurt your ankle, then there was a fire –”

“A fire?”

“Yeah, but it meant we could see, so I sonic-ed the door open and –”

“Hang on, I remember being tied up to a pipe?”

“We were – I untangled us. Remember you thought we were dancing?”

“Oh yeah, clever girl” the Doctor ginned tiredly, “But please don’t judge my moves – I’m much better with music.”

Chuckling, Yaz rolled her eyes, “Don’t worry – you can show me your mad skills later, promise.”

“Good.”

Cheeks pinking up, Yaz continued her recount. “So, you couldn’t walk, and I had to carry you outta there, through the fire, past the little men with spears, dodging a dino into the TARDIS, and, uh, here we are?” she finished lamely.

“Yasmin Khan,” the Doctor’s mouth hung slightly open, eyes twinkling, “You’re a complete badass.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that fa-” Yaz blushed, her previous bravado dissipated.

“I would,” the Doctor held her gaze, hand sliding into the young officer’s and squeezing hard, “thank you.”

Red in the face, Yaz tried to lighten the mood, “Well you can thank me properly later, show me some of those ‘moves’?”

Brightening and grinning mischievously, the Doctor nodded, “You just wait, Yaz! The things I could do with you on the dancefloor…”

Coughing to cover a loud gulp, Yaz got to her feet as quickly as she was able.

“Yes, right, good – I think we probably need to get that ankle of yours seen to first, hop-a-long.” She reached down and offered the timelord a hand, “reckon you can get up?”

“Yeah, course,” the Doctor rolled her eyes, “Not my first rodeo- _ooowwwww_!”. She had tried to put weight on her left foot and collapsed almost instantly.

“That’s a no, then?” Yaz raised her eyebrows, smiling a little at the stubborn timelord still trying to pull herself up. “C’mere,” she slipped an arm under the Doctor’s left shoulder and helped her to her feet. 

“Lean on me,” Yaz drew the Doctor’s arm around her neck, and slipped her right hand around her waist, splinting the slightly taller woman with her whole body. “Ok?” 

“Mmhmm,” the timelord’s face was screwed up in pain.

“Right, now let’s get you to your room.”

More nodding.

Gingerly, the Doctor took a step forwards, pressing herself heavily against Yaz as they moved stumblingly on. It took them a far too long to limp the few metres to the Doctor’s chambers, with a quick toilet stop on the way, and Yaz was glad when they reached the door. The timelord wasn’t exactly heavy, but the pair of them were on their last dregs of energy.

The door opened at the Doctor’s slightest touch, glowing slightly as it recognised her handprint, opening onto a surprisingly cramped space. The room itself was fairly capacious, but between the tottering piles of books and scattered half-finished experiments, there was little floor space to manoeuvre in. 

“Wow! How do you not knock everything over?”

Pale, but still cheerful, the Doctor half-grinned, “I don’t – you should see the bruises.”

Laughing softly to herself, Yaz carefully picked a way through to the back of the room, where a large, solid bed stood, quilt and sheets scattered messily across it.

“Right, you, up and over!” she turned to half-lift the Doctor up onto the waist-high mattress and found that the blonde already curling both arms around her neck in anticipation.

Scooping the Doctor up, she deposited her on the bed, feeling suddenly cold with the loss of the warm body. She moved to the foot of the bed and began to slip the timelord’s boots and striped socks off.

“How’s it looking?” The Doctor had propped herself up on her elbows and was watching Yaz as she gently removed the left boot.

“Swollen, red, and sore,” Yaz frowned as even that slight movement triggered a spasm of pain across the Doctor’s face, “though I don’t think it’s broken. Needs a bit of RICE.”

“Rice? Ooh, great idea. I could do with some dinner.”

“No,” Yaz giggled, “RICE – it stands for Rest Ice Compression Elevation.”

“Well that doesn’t sound nearly as delicious,” the Doctor pouted, her stomach gurgling in protest.

“I’m sure I can rustle us up something,” Yaz rolled her eyes, gently slipping a pillow underneath the ankle. “Have you got something I can bandage this with?” 

“Should be something over there,” the Doctor waved a hand vaguely at cluttered stack of shelves in one corner, “Can we have chips?”

“And where are we going to get those from?” Yaz shouted back as she made her way gingerly through the towers of leather-bound volumes. 

“Look in that mini-fridge over there?”

Pocketing a roll of bright orange bandage she found under a model of a Welsh power plant, Yaz stepped sideways, tipping over a bowl of bananas from their precarious perch atop a coat-stand. With a yell of “sorry!” she edged around an electric guitar on its stand and found a small metallic fridge which was filled, to her surprise, with boxes of –

“Microwave chips?” 

“Brilliant, eh?” the Doctor waved back happily as Yaz headed back over to the bed, two boxes in her hands.

“And we are heating these up how?”

The Doctor beamed, pointing proudly to a microwave on the cabinet next to them. 

“You’re seriously telling me you keep a microwave on your bedside table specifically to heat up these awful little boxes of micro-chips?”

“I get hungry at night?” the Doctor proffered, looking adorably pathetic with her foot propped up in the air and a now purple bruise across her forehead.

Shaking her head and trying not to grin, Yaz popped the boxes into the little machine and walked off to the door.

“Just going to get some water, I’ll be back!” she forestalled the question on the Doctor’s lips, waving the roll of bandage aloft.

When she returned, she found the Doctor sitting up, scoffing down a handful of hot chips. She paused, guiltily, when she saw Yaz’s raised eyebrows, cheeks stuffed full like a hamster.

“Rrorry,” she apologised through a mouthful of potato.

Yaz bit her lip in an attempt to stop the laughter she felt welling up inside.

“You’d better not be eating mine while I’m slaving away to fix your foot,” she warned, trying and failing to look stern, as she began to wrap cold, wet bandages around the swollen ankle.

“Awws rr eeerrr,” the Doctor pointed at the second box in her lap, pulling a face as Yaz pulled the orange material tight.

Finishing the dressing with a knot, Yaz smiled up at the Doctor, pleased that her first-aid training had finally paid off. 

“Brilliant work! Now come and have some of these before I finish them off,” the Doctor had finally swallowed the mouthful of food and patted the pile of blanket next to her.

“I am taking you for some proper chips when we’re back on Earth,” Yaz grinned, climbing up onto the bed and settling down next to the Doctor, “though they’ll do for now.” She took the proffered box and sat back against the headboard, which appeared to be heated. Sighing contentedly, she chewed on a hot mouthful of chips, and leaned her head against the Doctor’s shoulder.

“Not bad for a day’s adventuring?” the blonde next to her asked, sneaking a chip from Yaz.

“Not a bad life,” Yaz agreed, half-heartedly batting the Doctor’s pilfering attempts aside.

They ate in silence together, tired but happy.

“Stay?”

The question hung shyly in the air between them.

“It’ll take more than a few dinosaurs and mad tribesmen to get me off your case,” Yaz nudged the Doctor, gently, “Though your taste in midnight snacks needs improvement.”

Yaz raised her head, catching the starlight from the window above them dancing in the Doctor’s eyes. She felt a hand slip into hers, warm and sure, and the Doctor lowered her mouth to Yaz’s ear. The whisper tickled her neck, making every hair stand on end, blood rushing to her face.

“No, I meant, stay with me tonight?” 

Yaz gulped once and nodded.

 

***** TO BE CONTINUED *****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all of you that keep on reading this daft piece - I really appreciate each and every one of you. Had a bit of a rubbish week, but writing this and reading your feedback more than makes up for it :)


	9. Midnight Memories

**Midnight Memories**

“Really, you will?”

Yaz’s heart thudded in her throat as the Doctor leant back, watching her with an unreadable expression.

“Yeah,” Yaz nodded again, not really sure what she was agreeing to.

“Thank you,” the Doctor’s face flickered with emotion – joy, gratitude, and a deep sadness.

Then, still with the young officer's hand in hers, she shuffled down onto the mattress, lying on her uninjured side and pulling Yaz down with her. They lay there, hands clasped together between them, eyes fixed on each other. For that moment they were closer than they had ever been – gazes locked, chests rising and falling in sync with the other. 

Yaz wanted this moment to last, to exist this way forever, but she had to know.

“Doctor, I -” she started and then stuttered to a halt, unsure how to go on. 

The timelord kept her eyes fixed on Yaz’s but said nothing. 

“I need to –” her words deserted her again. How was this so hard?

The Doctor kept gazing at her, eyebrows creased in adorable confusion.

“I mean – hang, on, who is that?” Yaz sat up slightly, her wandering gaze having landed on a photo of a smiling blonde poking out from the bedside cabinet.

The Doctor’s face fell when she saw where Yaz had been looking, and the light in her eyes seemed to dim.

“That’s Rose Tyler.”

“Oh.”

A thousand questions whirled through Yaz’s mind. Who was this girl? Why did the Doctor keep a photo of her next to her bed? Why did she make the Doctor so sad?

“Did she hurt you?” Yaz’s protective instincts took over.

“No! Well, yeah – but no, not on purpose.”

“Doctor,” the word was half-plea, half-fear.

“It’s complicated and – ”

“If this is you telling me to butt out, that’s ok, it’s your life, but I thought we were friends… I thought…” Yaz trailed off, biting the inside of her cheek, feeling upset, angry, and selfish all at once. How had it come to this? Just moments ago they were so happy, and possibly on the cusp of something more. 

“Yaz?”

She heard her name but looked away, unable to meet the Doctor’s gaze. Needing suddenly to get out of there, get some air, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and made to get up.

She felt a tugging at her sleeve and turned around.

“You said you’d stay,” the Doctor’s eyes were wide and confused, tears threatening behind those long lashes.

Yaz stayed put for a second, not trusting herself to speak.

“You didn’t let me finish,” She could hear the wobble in the timelord’s voice. “I was trying to say: ‘it’s complicated and it’s time you knew’, then you got all angry and saying we’re not friends, and now you’re leaving when you said you’d stay.”

Yaz felt her heart break a little at the last line. She couldn’t stand being the one who made the Doctor’s smile wilt.

“I’m sorry,” she said as she leant over and drew the Doctor into a tight hug, “of course I’ll stay. I’ll always stay.”  They clung to each other, faces buried deep into brown and blonde hair, necks damp with tears.

“- oo smell ‘ice,” the Doctor muttered into Yaz’s hair after a minute. The vibrations of her voice made Yaz crease up slightly, snuffling a giggle into the Doctor’s neck. She too scrunched her shoulders, with a squeak, trying to push Yaz away.

“Ticklish much?” Yaz grinned, wiping her eyes, but not able to resist a tease.

“Nope, not me, that would be dangerou- eeeeeeeeeeyyy!”

The Doctor yelped as Yaz launched an attack, digging her fingers into the timelord’s ribs and tickling up and under the arms. The blonde squealed, trying to get out of range and bat away Yaz’s hands, who was chuckling at the ridiculousness of the situation.

“Honestly, Doc, who knew you had a weakness?”

“I have many!” the Doctor laughed back delightedly, rolling to avoid the oncoming assault, misjudging the distance, and toppling clean off the bed.

“You ok?” Yaz spat through fits of laughter.

The Doctor’s head poked up over the side of the bed, the end of a chip dangling from her mouth, looking simultaneously disgruntled and amused.

“Where did you get that chip?”

“Floor?”

“You are the _worst_!” Yaz giggled, “now come back up here – promise I won’t touch you!”

“Well that seems a bit much,” the Doctor grinned, climbing back atop the mattress, “But no more tickling?!”

“Ok, ok, tickling amnesty!”

“Can we hug again though? That was nice.”

“Yeah, course,” Yaz smiled more easily, settling back against the headrest and pulling the Doctor into her arms. 

“I like hugs with you, Yaz, but I don’t think I like fighting.”

“Me either, Doctor, I just –” how could she express all those conflicting feelings in a way that didn’t make her sound completely mad? Mulling over various options, Yaz finally mumbled “I care about you, s’all." 

She felt the Doctor squeeze her tightly.

“Ditto.”

Breathing deeply, but with a smile on her face, Yaz felt that she needed to clarify something.

“I am here for you, y’know?”

“I know.”

“And being here for you means I want to understand things,” Yaz continued, the words tumbling out easily now. “I want to understand you. I’m a police officer and we solve cases by talking to people, learning as much as we can about a situation or person. I love a good mystery, but I see you looking so sad sometimes, all far-off and distant, and I want to help. Whatever that means, whatever you need me to be, I want to help. I meant it when I said that you’re the best person I’ve ever met but I’m terrified of letting you down. So, I’m asking you trust me? Talk to me? Let me help?”

Yaz had felt the Doctor draw away from her slightly, and she kept her eyes fixed on a pile of books ahead of her, worried she had said too much. Feeling a sudden draft of cold air hit her side, she bit her lip to quell the panic rising inside. She had freaked the Doctor out, asked too much, and now she was the one being left.

Then she heard a creak and felt the bed dip as a warm, Doctor-shaped bundle nestled back into her side. A soft hand slipped into her own and she looked to see the blonde clasping a heavy leather tome and beaming up at her.

“Yasmin Khan,” the Doctor’s tone was warm sincerity, “You’ve never once let me down. But you’re right, because you need to know me, need to know all of this,” she patted the book, “and now I’m the one that’s afraid. Terribly afraid that once you know, you won’t want to stay.”

“But Doctor, I-”

“I know,” the timelord smiled, putting an end to the protest, “But hear me out first, and if you still want to stay, well that’s fantastic. And if I haven’t said it before, you’re brilliant, Yaz.”

Their eyes met, and Yaz nodded solemnly, accepting the terms.

“Right,” the Doctor took a deep breath, opening the heavy front-cover and revealing the photos within, “where shall we start?”

She flicked over a page and Yaz saw a black-and-white shot of four smiling faces, two men and two women, standing next to a familiar door.

“Is that the TARDIS?”

“Yup,” the Doctor smiled with happy remembrance, “back in her early days. Yaz, meet Ian, Barbara, and my granddaughter, Susan.”

“I’ve quite a lot of questions,” Yaz gazed, mouth open, “but the main one is – this guy? He seems weirdly familiar?”

“Ah,” the Doctor ran a finger nostalgically over the image, “my first incarnation – that hair ate up a lot of combs in its time.” 

“That’s… you?”

“Oh, Yaz, we are in for a _long_ night,” the Doctor grinned, settling down for the onslaught of questions.

 

* * *

 

“Wow, talk about a tour de TARDIS.” Yaz breathed out deeply, rolling over onto her back and gazing up at the stars.

“I said it was complicated,” the Doctor nudged her, also lying on her back, the leather-bound album back in its place on her bedside cabinet.

“Yeah I didn’t know you meant five and a half hours of complicated!” Yaz tapped her wrist.

“Sorry, I should have said, _very_ complicated,” the Doctor said, batting Yaz’s shoulder with her hand.

“So…”

“So? 

There was a still silence. For all the levity of their exchange, Yaz knew that there were still unanswered questions between them. She could feel a quiet tension radiating from the Doctor.

“Can I ask about Rose?”

“I think we’ve been through most of the important stuff?”

“No,” Yaz twisted her hands around each other, “I meant the photo.”

The Doctor was quiet.

“Because,” Yaz stumbled on, “if you’re still in love with her, or –”

“No, it’s not that.”

“I mean, if you were, that’s –” 

The timelord stopped her with a hand on her arm.

“Yaz, she’s a reminder.”

“Ok…”

The Doctor huffed a deep breath and continued.

“She’s a reminder of what I’ve lost, of who I am, of who I could be.”

“But you’ve lost so many companions,” Yaz replied, then realised the callousness of the words, “Sorry, I didn’t mean it to sound like that. I just meant –”

“Why her out of all of them?” 

“Yeah, I guess.”

“I suppose it’s because I fell for her, well, old me did, and I mean really fell. River was me wife and I loved her, but we were rarely in the same place at the same time – mega complex. But with Rose…” she trailed off, memories of the blonde hair and the absurd bravery in the face of danger drifting briefly through her mind. “She was just this force of nature. I did things for her I’d never done before – risking time paradoxes, risking entire planets. It was mad…”

She trailed off again, and Yaz tried to ignore how the Doctor made her heart break a little more with each memory. She had asked about her past, what had she expected? That she was the first? That she was a special? There had been many before her: Tegans, Claras, and Sarah Jane Smiths. What was one more travelling ‘companion’ to add to the pile? 

“But that’s not what I mean.” It was as though the Doctor could sense Yaz’s sadness and sought to correct it.

“That photo – Rose – she’s a reminder that I need to protect myself. They leave, they all leave, and I’m always alone again.” 

Tears silently trickling down her face, Yaz reached across and slid her hand into the Doctor’s.

“You’ve got me.”

She felt the hand grip hers so tightly it was almost painful.

“You’ll stay?” The Doctor’s voice cracked slightly with tension.

“Promise. I’m all in. You’re still the best person I’ve ever met.” Yaz ran her thumb across the back of the timelord’s shaking hand, reaffirming and comforting.

“Yaz, you need to know one more thing,” the Doctor said, rolling onto her side.

“Is it that I’m brilliant?” Yaz chided softly with a loud yawn, rolling over to face the Doctor, and drawing their joint hands closer, “because you’ve already mentioned that, and I’ll get a big head if you carry on.”

“I was just going to say that the photo,” the Doctor paused, as though picking her words carefully, “I don’t know that I’ll always need it.”

“Huh?” Yaz was too sleepy to focus on the words, “Want me to get a digital copy?”

“No,” the Doctor laughed softly, “I meant that things are changing, I’m changing, and maybe soon I’ll be ready to be… protected… by something else. Someone else.”

“I’ll protect you, Doc,” Yaz mumbled, eyes half-open as she struggled to remain awake, warm and contented in the timelord’s presence and bed. 

“Mmm,” the Doctor hummed, a smile stretching happily across her face.

And with the relief and joy bubbling up inside her, she leaned over and pressed her warm lips to Yaz’s until -

_ZZZNNNOAAGHHHH_

Yaz let out a loud, vibrating snore and the Doctor laughed softly, settling down and letting sleep take her.

 

 ***** TO BE CONTINUED *****  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You asked for angst and backstory... hope this hits the spot!
> 
> Thank you for all your lovely comments - got me through my on-calls with a grin on my face.


	10. Nightmare

**Nightmare**

Yaz was having that dream again. 

She was enveloped in a warm embrace, buzzing with sensation as a certain blonde timelord nuzzled into the back of her neck. She felt her hair parting as soft lips pressed into the nape, hot breath murmuring across skin that felt aflame. One hand was tucked under her shoulder, pulling her back against soft curve, whilst the other was snaked around her waist. She felt jittery as a stray finger whispered across the gap between her top and her jeans, the exposed skin burning with the heated promise of things to come. In her dream she let out a low moan and pressed herself back the woman behind her, her hand gripping tightly onto the roll of orange bandage in her fist.

Hang on, since when had this detail been part of her dream? 

Rising through the levels of consciousness, she cracked an eye open to cast about the dimly lit room. Where was she again? Glancing around she reoriented herself, taking in the roll of orange bandage gripped in her right wrist, a photo of Rose smiling up at her from a bedside cabinet, and a pale hand that didn’t belong to her wound about her waist.

Not a dream, then? But that moan – real or not real? She felt as though someone had doused her with a bucket of icy water. 

Trying to stay calm and completely still, she became aware of other sensations. There was definitely warm, snuffling breath on the back of her neck, but the grip on her shoulder felt loose, suggesting that the person doing the holding was probably asleep. Ok, that was good, Yaz thought, allowing herself a few deep breaths and relaxing a little, trying desperately to remember what had happened the previous evening. 

They had been talking, then arguing, then reconciling and then… the polaroid caught her eye – ah, yes, the photo album. The Doctor had opened herself up, talking to Yaz about her past – the friends and companions she’d loved and lost. There had been many tears, but many happy memories too. Yaz’s mind was still reeling – it was an awful lot to absorb.

The young officer frowned as she contemplated what all of it meant. Everyone has a history, she reasoned, so why should it matter whether that was five years or five hundred? She may have lived many live, but this latest incarnation of the timelord was still apparently getting to grips with her new form. She was struggling to find herself, to pin down what it meant to be ‘the Doctor’ and a woman no less. This exuberant, chaotic, curious Doctor was like a teenager, caught up in the whirlwind of change and the extreme highs and lows that accompanied it.  Yaz cast back to her own, more recent, youth and smiled sadly – a lonely girl, hiding her insecurities from her family and few friends, desperate to prove herself. 

Loneliness. That was the Doctor’s greatest fear. Yaz thought about the sadness that pooled in those usually shining eyes, the crinkle of brows and sad smile she saw when the timelord thought no-one was looking every time she talked about dropping them back home. The Doctor’s complicated past wasn’t a reason _to_ leave her, Yaz thought fiercely, it was the reason she could _never_ leave her. 

“You are not alone,” she muttered through clenched teeth, slipping her hand into the one around her waist and pulling the Doctor closer around her.

“Yazsnugglesnice,” the blonde murmured sleepily into her ear.

Yaz sighed, knowing that nothing in all of time and space could come close to this feeling. It was security, joy, and desire all wrapped up in a rainbow-lined coat. She let the warm, rhythmic breathing of the Doctor lull her once more to slumber.

 

* * *

  

“NOOOO!” 

Yaz awoke with a start, immediately alert, and found herself half-off the bed, a flailing leg catching her in the side.

“Doctor!” She hauled herself back atop the mattress and spied the shock of blonde hair fighting off what seemed to be a mass of tangled sheets.

“NO, YOU CAN’T! COME BACK!” the Doctor yelled, half-sobbing.

“Doctor! Wake UP!” 

Yaz grasped the timelord by the shoulders, trying to shake her from her nightmare. In doing so, she leant her body a little too far over the trembling figure, the weight of a knee pressing accidentally onto the bandaged ankle.

“GAAAHHH!” the Doctor yowled in pain, eyes shooting open and desperately trying to throw off her assailant. 

Caught off-balance, Yaz tumbled off the bed, landing on the floor with a groaned ‘ooff’. Looking up, dazed, she saw a tousled, blonde head peer down at her, eyes struggling to focus properly.

“Whatcha doing down there, Yaz?”

Unbelievable.

“Oh, well, I just really enjoy sleeping on hardwood floors,” Yaz rolled her eyes. 

“Really?”

“No, you great lump, you just kicked me off the bed!”

The Doctor scronched up her face. “I did? Sorry, I thought something was sitting on me ankle.”

“My bad,” Yaz groaned, picking herself off the floor and perching on the edge of the mattress, “You were having a nightmare and I was trying to wake you up.”

“Oh, yeah,” the Doctor scratched the back of her neck, pain etched across her pale features, “Sorry if I scared you.”

“Too bloody right,” Yaz rubbed at her side, softening instantly as she saw the look on the Doctor’s face. “Was it the daleks? Or those horrid angels you told me about? Probably shouldn’t have been rooting through bad memories before going to sleep.” 

“No, it was worse.”

“Was it… was it Rose?” 

“It was you.” The Doctor’s eyes looked terrible, haunted.

Yaz didn’t know how to reply.

“You fell… over and over. Through dimensional voids… off clouds… from that crane… and I couldn’t do anything. You just kept falling.” 

“Doctor, I’m right here.” 

But the timelord looked emotionally-drained, still replaying the scenes in her head.

“I’m right here, look,” Yaz took the Doctor’s hands in hers, pressing one of them firmly against her chest. Feeling the reassuring thump of the heartbeat, the timelord’s eyes seemed to clear, the starlight reflecting in them once more.

“You’re right here,” the Doctor echoed in wonder, a smile finally beginning to spread across her wan features. Then she crinkled her brow again, adding “sorry for scaring you.”

“That’s ok. The important thing is we’re both fine.” Yaz nodded encouragingly.

“Are you sure you’re ok?” the Doctor sounded unsure. 

“Yeah, course. Bit of a bruise coming up, but it’ll fit in nicely with all the others from the past few days,” she grinned back.

“You don’t feel, ok.” 

“Huh?” 

“Your heart - it’s beating pretty fast, over a hundred beats per minute.” 

Yaz tried to shrug off the observation, “Probably pretty normal for me.”

“No, it’s not,” the Doctor’s brow furrowed, “Your resting rate is normally sixty-eight.”

“I’m not even gonna ask how you know that. I’m probably just tired.”

“Fatigue usually slows your heart down.” 

“Right, yeah.”

The Doctor scrunched her nose up, thinking aloud. “Tachycardia is caused by a number of physiological and emotional factors, but mostly due to a sudden increase in adrenaline production as a result of sympathetic nerve stimulation.”

“Ok, so my nerves are playing up?” Yaz wished the Doctor wouldn’t look so adorable when she was launched into ‘science-nerd’ mode.

“Sorta, but the key triggers are usually fear –” 

“Nope, not afraid.”

“- anxiety –”

“Ha, you do worry me at times, but right now you’re just being a dork,” 

“- or love.”

Yaz didn’t have a response for that. 

“Well, I suppose it’s more like excitement, or desire, really,” the Doctor burbled on, “but – woah! Your heart is racing! Are you sure you’ve not got chest pain, or tummy pain, or shoulder pain or – ”

“Doctor, I’m fine, honestly!” Yaz could feel heat flood her cheeks, suddenly wishing she was back on the hard floor.

“Stay still,” the Doctor was not taking ‘no’ for an answer, and had whipped out her sonic screwdriver, scanning Yaz up and down.

“’Oc’or!” Yaz batted the timelord away as she stuck the sonic in her mouth and motioned for her to ‘say ah’.

“Hang on,” the Doctor drew back slightly, examinations complete, “So - elevated heartrate, flushed cheeks, and a dry mouth. Hmm, this can only mean one thing…”

Yaz couldn’t breathe. She could only stare at the Doctor, heart still beating a tattoo into her open palm, and wait for her terrible secret to be revealed. This was it - the moment the Doctor would know and have to apologise and let her down gently, tell her that she was sweet but that she didn’t do that. Tell her that she valued their friendship but that nothing more could come of it, that she didn’t see her that way.

She turned away, unable to watch the awful moment unfurl.

“… you need tea." 

“ _What_?”

“You’re having caffeine withdrawals – nothing a nice cuppa won’t solve.” The Doctor was beaming at her, pleased with her deductions, “Come on – no time like the present.” 

So saying she bounded off the bed and straight onto her injured ankle. 

“WOWZA!” the Doctor hopped on the spot, leaning on Yaz for support, “I’d forgotten about that!”

She delved into her voluminous pockets once more, withdrew the sonic, and jabbed it at her ankle with a pulsing orange whirr.

“Better,” she grinned, pocketing the screwdriver, “Right – kitchen, now.”

“Wait – _WHAT_?” Yaz had been staring at the Doctor open-mouthed, waiting for her brain to catch up.

“Fixed foot - tea-time - comprende compadre?” the blonde beamed back, delighted at the alliteration.

The recent near-miss completely forgotten, Yaz spluttered with indignation.

“You mean to tell me that I’ve been lugging you around fires and bloody Barney, not to mention worrying about bandages and RICE, while you’ve been able to fix yourself THIS ENTIRE TIME?”

“Ooh, now you mention that rice I’m hungry again – maybe we could have toast too?”

“ _DOCTOR_!”

“Alright, I’m sorry,” and she had the decency to look slightly sheepish. “But in my defence, I probably couldn’t have fixed it back in the cave – my sonic doesn’t heal as well when I'm exhausted. Didn’t want to risk losing a limb again.”

“Ok, fine – but what about back in the TARDIS?”

This time the Doctor blushed a deep pink, “Well,” she said softly, “it was just nice, ye know, being looked after.”

Yaz bit back a rebuke and relenting when she saw the Doctor’s face scrunch up and her eyes flicker about the room, guiltily.  

“If you ever need looking after, Doc, all you have to do is ask,” Yaz sighed, smiling at the timelord, who was doing her best naughty puppy impression. “Ok then – tea and toast it is." 

She made her way to the door, and back towards the TARDIS’ main room, the blonde bouncing happily in her wake. Yaz was far enough ahead that she didn’t catch the low murmur of the Doctor’s reply.

“And all you have to do, Yaz, is stop avoiding the answer.”

 

* * *

 

As the kettle boiled, the Doctor fiddled with the TARDIS controls, sending the ship off into gentle flight.

“Where are we off to, then?” Yaz felt refreshed and cheerful, ready for whatever the day threw at them.

“Well I thought we could stop off in Sheffield for a bit?”

Yaz’s face fell, slightly, “Oh, yeah, cool.”

“Thought you’d like to pop in and see your family, and it’s probably time we check in on the boys?” The Doctor sounded cheerful, but Yaz could hear the layer of sadness beneath.

“Well, yeah, but not for too long – and you’re always welcome to come too?”

The Doctor grinned at her, “Really?”

“Yeah, of course,” Yaz returned it with a beam of her own, her hand lacing itself automatically with the Doctor’s.

Then they heard a knock on the TARDIS door.

“ _What_?” they chorused in unison.

The door swung open, with a blast of air, revealing a dark-haired man, covered head to toe in blood, and holding, of all things, a harpoon.

“WHAT?!”

 

***** TO BE CONTINUED *****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy! These are getting longer and longer! This wasn't intended to be a novel, but looks like December is my NaNiWriMo!
> 
> Again, let me know if there's anything you want to see - I'm open to suggestions :)


	11. Doctor, Doctor, Detective, Officer

**Doctor, Doctor, Detective, Officer**

“Who the hell are you?” all three of them echoed.

There was a pause while the young man looked around him in consternation, “– and what is this place? That last batch must have been strong…”

“Sorry, did ye not hear me – who are you? And what are you doing in my TARDIS?”

“Holmes, and what the devil is a TARDIS? I was just looking for somewhere to -”

“Hang on, are you on the run?” Yaz stepped forward, placing herself between the madman and the Doctor.

“Not exactly – but none of the cabs would take me and I accidentally harpooned my phone. Saw this thing and thought it might be some kind of outdated phonebox, opened the door and, well…” he gestured at the TARDIS console, “I’ve concluded that I’ve really got to cut back on the drugs.”

“Outdated?” the Doctor spluttered, “There’s more technology in here, sonny boy, than you could shake a polaroid picture at.”

“Doctor,” Yaz groaned at the mixed proverbs.

“Technology? So, this is real?” Holmes looked about him in wonder. 

“Yeah, this old girl is as real as it gets,” the Doctor grinned back, patting the console proudly.

“Fascinating. So, am I to assume that this central core is some kind of power source? And that would mean...” he bent down to peer though the gaps in the grated floor, “Ah, some kind of particle container?”

“Energy – pure atomised, regenerative energy, just buzzing about in there. No nasty bi-products, no radiation. ‘Mazing isn’t it?” The Doctor had joined him on the floor, grinning with the pleasure of a scientific explanation.

“Oi! You two quite finished?” Yaz stood with her arms crossed, eyebrows raised as the pair popped their heads up above the console, “Harpoon-boy, you gonna explain the blood? And Doctor, letting a complete stranger come and poke about the console… really?” 

“Sorry,” the blonde was quick to apologise, casting a shifty side-eye in the direction of the dark-haired man.

“Honestly, why must people always focus on the blood?” Holmes sounded mildly irritated, getting up and brushing himself down, “I was simply running a few tests to document spatter patterns of maritime weaponry. Turns out there was no way Carey could have been murdered with this harpoon – certainly got Neligan off the hook…”

The timelord perked up at this. “Blood-spatter? You’ve been watching too much ‘Dexter’. Terrible eighth season, mind, though the ten-year reunion episode clears a few things up.” 

“Never mind that – care to go over that ‘murder’ bit one more time, Mr Holmes?” Yaz was trying to keep the alarm out of her voice, patting her pockets down for any kind of defensive weapon. 

“Boring,” the man sighed, “Case practically solved itself. But why are you so interested – fancy yourself as the police or something?”

Yaz brought herself up to her full height, “I am the police.” 

“Of course you are,” he sniggered back, “and hiding inside a police-box no less – what is this, fancy-dress night with the girlfriend?”

His next words were bitten back as Yaz had him up against the wall, hands bent firmly up behind his back. 

“Fancy-dress enough for you?” Yaz muttered into his ear before releasing him.

“Ouch - I hope she saves her handcuffs for you,” he quirked an eyebrow at the Doctor, rubbing his wrists.

The Doctor reddened but said nothing.

“My apologies, _office_ r,” Holmes smirked as he gave a mocking bow, “I’m sure you could give Donovan a run for her money. Anyway, I must be going - don’t want to give John any more time to tidy away my experiments.”

“John?” the Doctor perked back up at this, squinting strangely at the man as though she were struggling to place him.

“My meddling flatmate, though I’m sure he’d prefer to be referred to as Dr Watson.”

“ _No way_!” the Doctor’s mouth dropped open. 

“Yes, he has an extraordinarily big head for someone who claims to be so modest,” Holmes smirked, fondly.

Seeing the Doctor’s face, Yaz looked back at the tall man, feeling the pieces finally fall into place.

“Oh my god – are you Sherlock?" 

“Yes, I suppose you’ve heard of me? Evening Standard have really been pushing that deerstalker photo, though honestly I think it’s a bit much –”

“You’re BRILLIANT!” the Doctor beamed, striding over to clasp his hand and shaking it enthusiastically, “I can’t believe we’re actually meeting you. Have you got a case? Oh, _please_ tell me you’ve got a case – I’ve always wanted to watch you work.”

Looking pleased with himself, if not a little taken aback, the detective smoothed back a hanging lock of curly hair.

“Well John has had a whole day with my laptop – I’m sure he’ll have something for me by now. You’re welcome to join on two conditions.”

“Anything!”

“One, you’ll have to explain this energy core to me in more detail – it’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before. And two,” he eyed Yaz carefully, “You’ll have to make sure your officer here keeps her rough play for the bedroom only.” 

It was Yaz’s turn to redden, and she gaped at Holmes wordlessly.

Biting back a laugh, and slightly pink in the face, the Doctor nodded and turned to her companion.

“Can we go?” the puppy-dog eyes pleaded.

“Oh, go on then,” Yaz said rolling her eyes but smiling all the same, “but if this guy turns out to be a lunatic, it’s on you.”

Beaming, the Doctor grabbed Yaz’s hand and pulled her out onto the London side-street.

 

* * *

 

“You went on the tube like that?”

John put his paper down on his knees and stared up at the three of them.

“Yeah it was brilliant – love the funny little Clam card.”

“Oyster”, Yaz muttered, elbowing the Doctor.

Sherlock sniggered slightly.

“Sure,” John raised his brows, “And your new friends are…?”

Sherlock stared into the mid-distance, twirling his harpoon between two fingers.

“You didn’t even ask their names? Oh, come on Sherlock,” he sighed wearily, “Sorry, ladies, he’s a useless git.”

“No worries - I’m the Doctor,” the timelord beamed back, “and this is Yaz, sorry, Officer Khan.”

“You’re police? What’s he done this time?” John narrowed his eyes at Sherlock, who looked away.

Yaz smiled at him, feeling kindred with the frustration directed at his misbehaving friend. “Yeah, Officer Yasmin Khan, but my friends call me Yaz.”

“Nice to meet you, Yaz,” John held his hand out and they shook warmly. “And Doctor? I’m always glad to meet another professional. Where did you train?”

“Oh, me?” the timelord scrunched up her face, “Nowhere you’d know of – not from around here really.”

“You trained abroad?” 

“Yeah, sorta. Anyway, Dr Watson, I can’t believe I finally get to meet you. I’ve heard so much!” 

“Thank you,” John blushed slightly, “But it’s usually Sherlock here that gets all the credit – he’s the brains behind most of our success.”

Sherlock blushed as he pretended to ignore the compliment.

“Yes, but as Caesar used to say, there’s no I in team, or rather he said something like _ego ipsa manu abest_ ,” the Doctor garbled, “But I think what he meant was –”

“- it takes two?” Yaz finished, smiling as the timelord met her eyes.

“Yeah,” the Doctor’s eyes twinkled back.

“Well if you three are quite finished,” Sherlock harrumphed, breaking his silence, “Perhaps we could be getting on with a case – John?”

“It’s called being nice, Sherlock, you should try it some time,” Watson muttered, picking the laptop up and opening it. 

The Doctor and Sherlock both leaned in to peer over his shoulder and Yaz rolled her eyes. 

“Shall I get us some tea?” she offered.

“You can stay,” John grinned at her, batting the pair away from his keyboard, “One sugar for me please, and black for him, please. Oh, and don’t worry about the scarab beetles.”

Smiling, Yaz left the three of them to their debate and switched the kettle on.

 

* * *

 

“Remind me again why we’re doing this?” Yaz muttered as she shook the rain from her hair, ducking under the low beam of the pub door. 

“Giant hounds? Glowing bunny-rabbits? You telling me that doesn’t do it for you?” John muttered sarcastically, collapsing his umbrella and hanging his dripping coat on a hook near the bar.

Yaz snorted and joined him by the line of ale-pumps, “Well I could think of better ways to spend a Saturday evening the weekend before Christmas. But at least we’re in the dry now, no thanks to those two.” 

She glanced over at the Doctor and Sherlock who were arguing animatedly across a booth in one corner. 

“Ha, yeah,” John grinned a wry smile, “What’s a train-ride across the country, then a short trek across Dartmoor in the rain and darkness when there’s mysterious beasts to be tracked down? Sherlock never worries about the details.” 

Yaz laughed, picking up their drinks and carrying the tray over to the table, “John, you have no _idea_ …”

Settling down beside the Doctor she passed one of the pints over and picked up her own, taking a deep, contented draught.

“Ooh, what’s this?” the timelord peered excitedly at the clear, amber liquid, giving it an experimental sniff.

“It’s ale, give it a try.”

The Doctor picked the glass up and downed its contents. “Hmm,” she said, licking her lips, “it’s weirdly cold but warm. Not bad though.”

“Haha, didn’t take you for such a big drinker,” John smirked, having only taken a mouthful of his own pint.

“Doctor!” Yaz reprimanded, “That’s alcoholic – you’re meant to take your time and enjoy it. I’m not getting you another – I’m not sure what it’d do to you.”

“Spoilsport,” the Doctor muttered, before catching Sherlock’s eye and winking.

“I think you’re overreacting,” the detective drawled, sounding bored, “John usually picks the alcohol-free ale – he’s always so worried about being proper when he’s out with me.” He stared down at the lemon floating in his Diet Coke.

“Really? I thought we’d bought the Ottery Ale,” Yaz frowned, looking over at the labels on the wooden pump-handles, “Yeah – we did, and it’s 5.4%!”

In the seconds it took her and John to cast their eye over the bar, Sherlock, quick as a whip, had switched John’s full pint for the Doctor’s empty one. And the Doctor, not missing a beat, drank it down, placing the empty glass back on the beer-mat just as Yaz turned back.

“DOCTOR!”

“SHERLOCK!”

The pair burst out laughing as their furious partners rounded on them.

“Right. You. Bed. Now.” Yaz seized the Doctor under the arm and dragged her off the bench, in the vague direction of the staircase. “John, we’ll catch up with you two tomorrow.”

John, who had been growling ‘apologise, now!’ in a low voice, looked up and gave Yaz a grimace.

“I’m sorry for him,” he smacked Sherlock on the arm, not looking at the still chucking detective, “and yes, we’ll sort out a plan over breakfast.”

He chucked a key in her direction, which she caught effortlessly.

“Sleep tight, don’t let the Doctor bite,” Sherlock half-shouted half-tittered from across the room.

Ignoring him, Yaz continued to haul the Doctor up the stairs, hearing John’s chiding echo after them.  

Moments later a tired Yaz and giggling Doctor burst through the door to a small, dimly lit room. Looking about for their small holdalls, Yaz suddenly found herself in a tangle of limbs as the Doctor knocked them sideways onto the small, double bed.

“Doctor, gerroff!” she tried to get up, but was pushed further into the mattress by a hot mess of laughing timelord.

“Ugh, you’re all wet, come on,” Yaz complained, pushing damp blonde locks out of her face, both of them still soaked from the rainfall.

The Doctor giggled, sitting up so she straddled Yaz’s sodden jeans, “Some of those words aren’t quite right.” 

“Doctor!” Yaz ignored her reddening face, trying to push the timelord off her, hands slipping on damp thighs, “Get off!”

“I thought you’d never asked,” the Doctor grinned drunkenly, slipping her braces down, and reaching for the hem of her wet top.

 

***** TO BE CONTINUED *****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Teehee, sorry I really couldn't resist. Hope you're enjoying a wee Sherlock crossover - I can't help but feel those four write themselves into trouble.


	12. The Hound

**The Hound**

For a moment Yaz let the scene play out, watching in slow motion as the Doctor’s pale fingers slid under her trademark navy top, and started to slide it upwards, revealing a slither of pale skin. Then she shook herself and leapt into action.

“No,” she grabbed the Doctor’s hands, allowing the top to fall back down into place.

“Oh, come on, Yaz, s’fun!” the Doctor was slurring her words slightly as she tried to push Yaz’s hands away, reaching for her top again.

“No, Doctor,” Yaz said again more firmly, sandwiching the Doctor’s palms between hers.

“Thought you wanted this, wassa problem?” the timelord was definitely swaying from side to side, her eyes not able to focus in one place for long.

“I do,” Yaz said softly, under her breath, “but not like this.”

She raised her voice, so the Doctor could hear, “You’re drunk, and we both need to get some sleep – we’ve got things to do in the morning.”

“M’not drunk, whatta thing to say!” the Doctor pouted, as Yaz saved her from keeling sideways off the bed.

“Your sense of balance says otherwise,” Yaz assured, concentrating on keeping the Doctor upright, “Now how about we get some sleep, so we can help Sherlock and John with their case tomorrow?”

“Ooooh, the big doggie?” 

“Yes, and the rabbit.”

“Aw, fluffy bunny! You’re fluffy, Yaz, I wanna be fluffy w’you.”

Smiling despite herself, Yaz took advantage of the swaying Doctor, opportunely flipping her onto the mattress. They were both still rather damp, but Yaz didn’t see that she could do a whole lot about that now.

“Sure, fluffy. Now how about we count the bunnies and go to sleep?”

“Bunnies are spinning, Yaz, they’re spinning round – wheeeeeee!”

Snorting into her pillow, the young officer filed this particular gem away and wrapped an arm around the Doctor.

“It’s ok, I’ve got you,” she murmured into messy blonde hair, “Close your eyes and the bunnies will stop spinning.”

Moments later she heard a snuffling snore and relaxed. Tomorrow was going to be a long day, she thought, as sleep claimed her too.

* * *

Yaz awoke to strange groaning noise and opened her eyes to see the Doctor swinging one hand around in front of her, the other clamped firmly over her eyes. 

“Is this your idea of a morning workout routine, Doctor?” Yaz sighed tiredly, stretching and pulling the blanket back over her, “because I’ve seen better.”

“Yazzz,” the Doctor moaned again, grimacing, “Why is there so much light? Why does it hurt my face?”

Sniggering, Yaz punched the Doctor lightly on the arm, “It’s not the light, it’s a hangover, you muffin. You’re a proper lightweight, you are – two pints? Is that some Timelord thing?”

“More like a regenerated liver thing,” the blonde groaned again, “I don’t think this one has been test-driven yet.”

“Well, lesson learnt then?” Yaz got up and searched around the room for her dry clothes, then slipped into the small ensuite. “Do you, er, remember what happened last night?” she shouted through the door.

“I remember the tasty ale,” the Doctor frowned, gingerly removing her hand from her face and cautiously opening one eye, “then you dragged me up here, and I remember you saying something odd about getting off a wet bunny before I fell asleep?”

Yaz snorted loudly, relieved that she didn’t have to explain further, “Yeah, sounds about right.” 

Reappearing in new jeans and a thick woollen jumper, she eyed the Doctor’s sprawled form in the mussed duvet.

“Right – you get dressed, and I’ll find something to fix that head of yours.” 

“Ooh, have you got some of those parrots-eat-a-mole?” 

Shaking her head, Yaz laughed, “Better - breakfast!”

She turned to see a thumbs-up emerging from under the blanket, as she headed out and down the stairs.

* * *

She found John already seated at a wooden table, head in a paper and a mug of steaming tea in hand. He looked up when he heard her approach, smiling wryly.

“Rough night?”

“It was fine once the Doctor got to sleep,” Yaz smiled back, sliding onto the bench opposite and accepted the steaming cup John passed her, “She’s paying for it this morning though – think it’s been a while since her last hangover.”

“Lightweight,” John chuckled. 

“That’s what I said.” Yaz eyed up the empty bench, “Sherlock not up yet?” 

John rolled his eyes, “Oh he’s faffing – forgot to pack half his stuff, so I imagine that right now,” he cast his eyes upwards, “He’s stealing my toiletries. Good job I always remember to bring double.” 

“So,” Yaz sat forward, mug wrapped in both hands, “Are you two a thing?”

“What? No!” John spluttered, face reddening slightly, “Why do people always think that?” 

“Sorry – didn’t mean any offence.”

“That’s ok,” he glanced about the room, not meeting her eye, “Must be why the innkeeper gave us both doubles – must’ve thought we were on some double-date or –”

“Woah there, what?!”

“You know, like a couples’ retreat thing – nice B&B in the country, back to nature, all that?”

“Me and the Doctor, we’re not…” Yaz knew she must look as flustered as she felt, “I mean, why would you think…" 

“Seriously? I just assumed -”

“- that the breakfast is overpriced but completely necessary? Couldn’t agree more, John.”

A surly voice broke through their denials, followed swiftly by the excited squeak of a second.

“OOH! Baked beans!”

The Doctor and Sherlock slid onto the benches, pulling over four steaming plates of food that had heralded their entrance. Yaz was amused to see the Doctor’s headache so easily appeased by fried food, as the blonde began to inhale her serving with gusto. Sherlock too appeared to be enjoying his food, though he seemed fondest of the small pieces of sausage he stole from John’s plate when he thought he wasn’t looking. Catching Yaz’s raised eyebrow, John replied with a subtle incline of the head, nodding over to the Doctor’s stealthy attempt to pinch her last piece of toast.

“Oi!” Yaz was too late, and the timelord already had the slice between her teeth. There was a mischievous twinkle in her eye and Yaz half-fancied that she was being dared to take it back.

“How sweet – I might be sick,” Sherlock drawled to no-one in particular.

As Yaz flushed pink at the comment, John cleared his throat, pushing their plates to one side and rolling out a map onto the table.

“Right, now that everybody’s breakfasted adequately I thought we should probably get on with the case. I’ve got a rough plan if no-one’s got any objections?” He looked around to nods of agreement. “Ok, so we to need to talk to Henry Knight about anything he can remember pertaining to these ‘beast’ encounters, and we should also check out the Baskerville military research base - I reckon if anything’s fishy going on, they’ve probably already got surveillance. It’s probably best if we split into two teams – Yaz and the Doctor, can you speak Henry, and Sherlock and I –”

“I’d like to go with Officer Khan if that’s ok,” the detective said abruptly.

Yaz looked at John and shrugged, “Fine with me, I’ve worked with private investigators before, and,” she fixed Sherlock with a grin, “it’ll give me a chance to see Holmes, here, in action.”

“Quite,” Sherlock replied, steepling his fingers. 

“So that leaves me and you, Doc?” John looked across at the timelord, whose face held a strange expression.

“Sure,” the Doctor replied, narrowing her eyes at Sherlock, “But you make sure Yaz comes back in one piece.”

“Naturally,” the detective’s faced twitched fleetingly, “And you’ll extend the same curtesy to returning my doctor?”

“How about we just get on with it and agree to meet back up at lunch?”

Ever the pragmatist, Yaz rose from her seat, grabbing her coat and throwing the Doctor hers.

“Great plan,” John agreed enthusiastically, downing his second cup of tea and shrugging on a thick jacket. As they exited the inn, he turned to Yaz and muttered “Look after him though, and I’ll keep an eye on yours?”

“Agreed,” Yaz smiled back, pulling her hood up against the wind and rain.

* * *

 

“I’m not buying it – there’s something he’s not telling us.”

It was nearly four hours later as Yaz and Sherlock trudged the muddy forest path back towards the inn. They had spent three of those hours in deep conversation with Henry Knight, a local young man with a very nervous disposition brought on by years of terrifying dreams and visions following his father’s death. He claimed that a giant dog was responsible and was now back to kill again, rendering him a nervous wreck. Yaz was surprised they had gotten so much information out of him – the man was clearly in the midst of a breakdown. She hoped the Doctor and John were having better luck.

“Hmm,” Sherlock mused, eyes unfocused as he internalised and assimilated the new evidence.

“I mean, a giant dog? Sure, there’s the local myth of the Beast of Dartmoor, but he seems to be taking it pretty seriously.” 

“Hound.”

“Huh?”

“He said ‘hound’, not dog, not beast – _hound_.”

“Semantics?” Yaz shrugged.

“But don’t you see it’s more than that? A hound is a breed of dog known for hunting and tracking prey, but if you were describing a creature like that, you would probably just call it a dog.” 

“Right…”

“But ‘hound’ is a word reminiscent of its Old English and Germanic roots – steeped in history and fantastical literature. Think of hellhounds, Cerberus, or Black Shuck – more than mere ‘dogs’ – these were creatures of substantial size and ferocity. Mr Knight wasn’t just scared – he was terrified, perhaps rightly so. In fact, I’d go so far as to -”

“- offer yet another insightful deduction to us mere mortals? Why thank you,” Yaz tipped an imaginary hat to the detective, eyes rolling with sarcasm, “John must be a saint to put up with this on a daily basis!”

Sherlocked stumbled, looking around him in confusion, “Sorry?”

“Your explanations, Holmes-boy, could do with a bit more enthusiasm,” she gave him a quick jab in the back to keep him moving, “At least when the Doctor switches on ‘lecture-mode’ she tries to teach whoever’s listening. You spout information like a broken tap, always trying to prove you’re the cleverest one in the room. I mean, seriously,” she gave him another jab, “Who are you trying to impress?”

Taken aback, the detective scrunched his face up, considering. 

“John likes hearing my deductions,” he muttered softly, as though trying to reassure himself.

“Hmm,” Yaz raised a knowing eyebrow, “Does he now? Well then, he must be made of stronger stuff.”

“Hang on, what was he saying to you earlier?” Sherlock turned on his heel, fixing Yaz with narrowed eyes.

“Huh?” Yaz was caught off-guard.

“I overheard you two saying something about a couples’ retreat? And you were both blushing. I, uh, didn’t interrupt anything, did I?” He tailed off, features forming into a strange grimace.

“Oh, that!” Yaz was flushed with relief, “No! He said the innkeeper had given us double rooms because they thought we were couples.” 

“What, you and John?”

“No, _you_ and John, and me and… well…”

“Oh,” he looked partially relieved, partially upset, “I thought John had chosen the room.”

Yaz’s eyebrows said plenty.

“I thought it was a bit out of character,” he laughed it off, seeing her face, “He kicks about in his sleep and I’m told I steal the blankets, so I don’t know why he’d put up with that voluntarily.” 

“Sure,” Yaz smirked.

“I’m sure you two have a much better system, though,” he shrugged nonchalantly.

“Oh, we’re not… the Doctor and I aren’t…” 

It was Sherlock’s turn to smirk, and he left Yaz gabbling to herself as he strode on.

* * *

 

“Let’s just stop for a second,” Yaz sighed, resting against the trunk of a large tree, “We’ve been going around in circles for the last ten minutes.”

“I was following a trail,” Sherlock muttered, casting his eyes about the hollow, “But it seems to have disappeared." 

“You got photos, though, right? Of the footprints?”

The detective tapped his head, “All up here, my dear Officer Khan.”

“Great,” Yaz mumbled sarcastically, “Well that’s super accessible for all of us then.”

Sliding down the trunk to the mossy floor, she pulled out her phone, checking for signal. Nada. Slipping it back into her pocket, she looked up to see that she was completely alone.

“Sherlock?” she called out, hearing the name echo through the trees.

Nothing.

“Brilliant,” she growled, and blew a cloudy breath of air out into the evening twilight. She knew the grouchiness was mostly due to fatigue and hunger, but she was also missing the Doctor. It was strange to have spent so much time apart after all these weeks of intense travel and adventure, and Yaz didn’t like it one bit.

“Sherlock!” she shouted again – the sooner he returned, the sooner they could head back to the inn and reunite with their companions.

She was just thinking of the inn – of smoking fires, hot food, and a warm body sat beside her, when she saw them. On the ridge ahead of her stood the beast, dark as night, hackles raised as it sniffed the air, its eyes aglow. On the other side, completely unaware and bouncing along with the usual spring in her step she saw the Doctor. Yaz’s breath froze in her chest, and she watched as the beast turned its great head, a growl rising in its throat. Had it spotted the timelord?

She pushed herself to her feet, looking wildly around for a means of escape before spying the narrow gap in amongst the trunk and branching roots of the great tree.

“ _Doctor!_ ” She whispered as loud as she dared, hoping it would be enough to attract the timelord’s attention.

It was. She saw the Doctor wave cheerfully back as she slid down into the hollow to join Yaz, still oblivious to the hulking, black predator. The great creature, however, had cottoned on, and had begun to slide ominously down the embankment, its snout wafting through the air to search out its prey.

Yaz had seconds to act and there was no time to communicate her intentions. In an instant she had sprinted out to meet the Doctor, before pulling her hurriedly back into the safety of the narrow gap in the tree.

“Yaz, what the –” the timelord exclaimed in confusion as she was thrust roughly into the trunk’s opening

“ _Doctor_ …” Yaz groaned in fear, trying to wedge them both as far into the hollowed notch as their limbs would allow, all the time, keeping one eye on the pitch-black mass that stalked ever nearer.

“If you would just – ”

“ _Shut. Up._ ” Yaz moaned, clamping a hand over the Doctor’s mouth to try and quieten her. Why was she still talking? Couldn’t she see that thing, with its teeth and its glowing eyes?

“Muh I don’nunerstan,” the timelord continued to try and reason with Yaz, eyes wide with puzzlement and fear.

Yaz whimpered quietly, torn between watching the beast sniffing its way across the forest floor towards them, and a strong desire to knock the Doctor unconscious.

There had to be another way. 

Inching them ever further into the trunk hollow, she felt their bodies pressed tightly together, aware of the three hearts hammering their rhythm into the still air. She felt the Doctor’s mouth open beneath her hand, and knew she was going to try and speak again. Out of the corner of her eye, Yaz saw the creature, coal-black, mere metres away. There was nothing for it.

With a deep breath of loamy forest air, Yaz closed her eyes, removed her hand, and pressed her mouth firmly to the Doctor’s.

And after a long, heart-pounding moment, she felt the Doctor press back into her, lips moving fiercely against hers.

 

***** TO BE CONTINUED *****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longest chapter yet and a sprinkling of fluff? It's beginning to look a lot like Thasmin...
> 
> Merry Christmas to each and every one of you :) x


	13. Run!

Everything was sensation, Yaz’s remaining neurons mused. The rough bark of the tree grated against exposed skin, the tight space pressing their bodies impossibly close, limbs half-trapped, half wrapped around the other. She could feel heat coming off them in waves, pooling in her, fingertips scorching as they fought for purchase in hair, on cheeks, against necks. A low humming seemed to fill the air as they swallowed down moans, the creak of trees and forest-floor echoing around them. 

The floodgates had opened and this tidal wave of hot, desperate lips sliding against hers was threatening to drown her even as it kept her afloat. She held on for dear life, fingers wound tightly in mussy, blonde hair, pulling the Doctor in deeper. The kiss was fierce and unchecked, a crackling blaze of clashing teeth and lips growing more out of their control by the second. She could barely breathe, gasping into the hot mouth on hers, tongues dancing a frantic rhythm.  There was nothing gentle about this - it was all consuming, flood and flame, and Yaz had never wanted anything more.

When they were eventually forced to come up for air they parted with a wrench of bruised lips, panting heavily, their breath misting in an icy cloud. Dizzily, Yaz let her forehead rest against the Doctor’s, their hands slipping down to grip each other’s forearms for support.

“Woah…” 

“Yeah…”

Yaz imagined that if the Doctor’s mind was as fried as hers, monosyllabics were the best they could hope for right now.

“Huh-hmm.”

They jumped apart as someone nearby cleared their throat, loudly. Yaz felt a _CRACK_ and a sudden pain as the back of her head collided with a low-branch. Wincing and rubbing the rising lump, she turned to see a familiar figure, hands shoved in corduroy pockets and fixing them with a knowing look.

“Ha - I knew it! Sherlock owes me a tenner." 

“John?”

Yaz tried to focus, tried to think. What had she been doing before –

“RUN! Where IS IT? John, get OUT of here!”

The shout echoed loudly around the hollow as a tall figure in a trailing coat hurtled towards them, face ashen and panic-stricken.

“What the – ” John turned to watch in some confusion.

“GET. OUT.” Sherlock gabbled frantically, seizing John’s arm and trying to drag him away. 

“Sherlock! What _is it_?” John grabbed him by his lapels, sounding alarmed, “What’s got _into_ you?”

“Did you see it?” Yaz called to him, memory returned in a cold flush of dread, “Did you SEE it?”

Sherlock nodded hurriedly, trying desperately to catch his breath, “We have got to get out of her _NOW_!”.

He shook John’s hands from his coat and began half-pulling, half-pushing him up the nearest bank. Yaz felt ice running through her veins as she recalled the great beast and knew there was no time for explanations. 

“Doctor, we have to get out of here!” she half-fell out of the hiding-place, tripping over herself in panic. 

“Doctor!” 

Looking back, she saw that the timelord had not moved an inch. She looked dazed, running a cautious finger across her lower lip, eyes unfocused.

“Doctor, now is _really_ not the time – RUN!” she grabbed the blonde’s hand and tugged hard.

Yaz felt the Doctor stumble after her and they ran together, hand in hand sprinting for the bank that Sherlock and John were already climbing. She was aware of something behind them and she turned her head as they ran, seeing a mass of black fur and scarlet eyes not fifty feet away. With an incoherent yell of terror, she launched herself forwards, shoving the Doctor up the embankment. She scrambled up on hands and feet, kicking a spray of leaves and soil up behind her as she propelled herself up and over. Then they were running again, all four of them, the low growl of the thing getting ever closer.

“YAZ, WHAT –”

She heard the Doctor’s shout whistle past her as they ducked through the winding woods.

“RUN!” she yelled back, there was no time to elaborate.

They sprinted onwards, breath rasping and hearts pounding, the hellish creature hot on their heels. The woods had thinned, and the track was muddy gravel beneath their feet, but Yaz could see the lights of the village ahead of them. She thought that if they could just make it to the village maybe they would be safe. Throwing a glance over her shoulder, she wildly cast around for the beast. Where was it? 

Then the world was thrown into disarray as she flew head over heels, sliding to a halt across the gritty path. 

“YAZ!” 

The Doctor was at her side in an instant, helping her to her feet and patting her down for injuries. Yaz wobbled to her feet, wincing at raw, grazed palms, and feeling that she might be sick.

Sherlock meanwhile, was squinting at the darkness around them, hands curled into anxious fists. 

“I think – I think it’s _gone_.”

“We lost it?” Yaz muttered, nauseous with pain and fear. 

“Must have…” the detective continued to stare into the night, fixated on the spot where the path was swallowed up in shadow. 

“For the love of God, will _someone_ please explain what it is we’re meant to be running from?” John’s carefully controlled frustration had reached boiling point, “because if I’ve ruined this pair of shoes for nothing –”

“Can this wait until we’re back at the inn?” the Doctor’s tone was steely with concern, “Yaz is hurt.”

John, seeing the glint in the timelord’s eye, decided wisely not to argue. 

“Fine, but you,” he jabbed a finger in Sherlock’s direction, “had better start talking the instant we get seated.”

Sherlock nodded slowly, still narrowing his eyes at the woods behind them. Then with a deep breath, he turned and followed the rag-tag gang in the direction of the warmly-lit inn. He observed them, these two strange travellers - the younger limping along stoically but leaning on the blonde perhaps more than was strictly necessary. He noted the tightness of arms wrapped around waists and the closeness of their heads as they talked quietly together. He smiled quietly to himself before turning his gaze on John, the calm and collected soldier with a short-fuse and a fondness for all things comfortable. He wondered idly how injured he would have to get before his doctor would wrap their arm about his waist.

“Maybe I’ll save that thought for another day,” he mused to himself, sagely. With a slight jog his long legs caught up with his friends, leaving the dark copse and its darker secrets behind them.

* * *

 

“So just to be clear, then,” John surmised, putting his pint glass down, and tilting his head in Yaz’s direction, “you saw a giant beast, and pulled the Doctor here into a cosy nook for a quick snog?”

A warm fire, large meal, and several rounds of drinks had done wonders to ease the tensions of the day. John had at last delighted in the opportunity to address the blushing elephant in the room.

“I had to shut her up!” Yaz’s face was so red she was surprised she wasn’t glowing.

“Well that’s certainly one way of doing it,” Sherlock smirked into his shandy.

“Don’t you start – you saw that thing too!” she rounded on the detective, deflecting. “It was coming after us and this one wouldn’t shut up, so I had to…” she tailed off, refusing to look in the Doctor’s direction.

“Ah, saving her life then?” John raised his eyebrows so high they disappeared into the mop of sandy hair. “Looked pretty enthusiastic for a kiss of life.”

“I’ve had to do that before,” the Doctor mused nostalgically. “Draining a time vortex here, genetic transfer there… Though there was this time Donna snogged me because I needed a shock so –”

“So, where would this particular… _encounter_ … rank among all those?” John was grinning wickedly, the alcohol loosening his tongue. Yaz’s face was now the colour of her jumper. 

“Oh, it was brilliant!” the Doctor beamed, face-falling suddenly when she saw Yaz, who was staring fixedly at the table. “I mean – uh – yeah, so those beast things, hey? Real or not real?”

“Smooth,” Sherlock chuckled into his drink.

Yaz stood up so abruptly she knocked the table, spilling the remainder of her pint. “I need to go upstairs – I mean, to bed – I mean, I need to go upstairs to bed.”

“Y’alright, Yaz?” the Doctor’s tone was one of quiet concern.

“Yeah, I just – it’s been a long day and I’ve a bit of a headache so…” the young officer trailed off, before shoving her hands in her pockets and walking quickly over to the staircase.

“She’s not alright, is she?” the Doctor asked at the two men, a little perplexed.

“I’m not the detective,” John sighed, smiling kindly, “but I’d say you’re spot on with that deduction.”

The Doctor scrunched up her face in thought.

“Go after her, then.” Sherlock drawled, sounding bored, “God you’re slow.”

“Oh, right! Yeah!”

John grinned and shook his head as the blonde leapt up and sprinted for the stairs. 

“You’re cute when you pretend not to care, you know?” he muttered in the direction of the detective. 

Sherlock pulled a face, but John saw the slightest colour tinge his pale cheeks. 

“Come on, you,” he finished his pint, and threw the detective his coat, “bed.”

* * *

“Yaz?”

The Doctor crept into the dimly lit room and saw the young officer sat on the side of the bed, staring down at her open hands. 

“Sorry if I wasn’t getting the signals right, down there,” she spoke softly, taking a cautious step forward, “I’m rubbish at signals, me, like a great, big, broken radar.” 

She knelt down, in front of Yaz, tipping her chin up with a gentle finger and peering at her beneath scrunched up brows.

“I’m sorry, Yaz, I don’t know what I said or did, but I’m sorry if I’ve upset you.”

Dusky eyes at last met hazel, and the Doctor smiled softly.

“Well that’s a start – now you just sit tight, and I’ll get something to bandage up these hands of yours.”

She rose up, nipping to the bathroom and reappearing with a wet wash cloth, fishing a roll of orange bandage and a small tube out from a pocket. She knelt again, taking one hand in hers, and gently cleaned it with the cloth before applying a layer of cream and fastening the bandage lightly in place. She then turned to repeat this on the other, grazed palm. 

“I’m sorry too.” Yaz spoke, at last, her voice cracking.

“Whatever for?”

“For kissing you?”

The Doctor paused briefly in her ministrations, before resuming her gentle wipes with the cloth. 

“No need to apologise –saving my life, remember?”

“From a creature that neither you nor John saw.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Whatever. Obviously, I’d do it to save your life,” Yaz paused, trying to find the words. “But I am sorry for –”

 _Don’t say it, don’t say it_ , the Doctor thought with gritted teeth. _Please don’t say it_.

“- taking advantage of you.”

The Doctor let out a long sigh, fastening the second bandage in place and clasping Yaz’s hands gently but firmly in hers.

“Oh, Yaz.”

She saw the tears forming in those dark brown eyes and her heart skipped a beat.

“Please don’t cry,” she reached a hand up to wipe away the solitary teardrop that slid down Yaz’s face. 

The young officer sniffled in reply, closing her eyes and nestling her cheek into the warm palm.

“You’re so wrong,” the Doctor continued, softly but assuredly. “Oh, Yaz, you couldn’t be more wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” a gentle smile tugged at the Doctor’s cheeks, “that you didn’t take advantage of me with that kiss.”

Yaz blinked at her, fatigue and confusion etched in equal measure on her face.

“I didn’t?”

“No,” the Doctor stroked her cheek tenderly, “you thought I needed you, and you were there – you did everything right.”

Yaz nodded, numbly.

“And now it’s my turn to be there for you, Yasmin Khan,” she smiled warmly up at the young officer, “and I know exactly what you need.”

She rose slowly, bringing her other hand up to Yaz’s face, and drawing her inexorably closer. Tracing a cheekbone with her thumb, she nudged the younger woman’s nose with her own, asking silent permission.

“You need a doctor,” she murmured against Yaz’s mouth, before drawing her down into a searing kiss. 

 ***** TO BE CONTINUED *****  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couldn't resist that line :P I hope Chapter 13 does actual Thirteen justice!
> 
> I hope you've all had a lovely Christmas!


	14. After Dark

Yaz fell dizzyingly, spiralling into freefall as her thoughts trying desperately to catch up with her senses. The room around her was spinning, and memories of fear and pain blurred into warm, safe touches and an electric heat that coiled inside her. Clarity returned with a jolt, and then all that she knew was the sensation of the Doctor’s mouth moving hotly against hers.

It had taken her precious seconds to catch up and Yaz could feel a slight hesitancy in the kiss, the timelord presumably worrying that she had misjudged the situation again.

 _No_ , she thought fiercely, _not this time_ , and she buried her fingers in blonde hair, claiming the Doctor’s mouth with her own. The kiss was bruising, and their lips soon parted to swallow the heated groans it elicited. They were pressed together so tightly, and yet it wasn’t enough, could never be enough.

Yaz couldn’t remember who moved first, but she felt the pressure against her knees, then the angle of their mouths twisting deliciously as she was pushed slowly backwards onto the mattress. Still locked together in a dizzying kiss, they wriggled further back, and suddenly Yaz felt the warm weight of the Doctor pressing down onto her.

Overloaded with sensation, an electrical thrill emanating from every part of her body in contact with the timelord’s, she groaned.

“ _Doctorrrr_ …”

“Yeah, Yaz?” the reply was low and throaty.

“ _Don’t stop.”_

“Ok.”

And then the Doctor dipped her mouth to the dark skin of her throat, and Yaz was seeing stars.

She could barely breathe, panting damp moans into the air, eyes shut tightly. One hand tangled further into mussed-blonde hair, holding the timelord there against her neck, the other held a fistful of shirt. When the Doctor grazed her teeth against the soft skin below her jaw and sucked lightly, Yaz made an inhuman noise and bucked against the timelord.

The Doctor groaned something incoherent against the young officer’s collar-bone, and gripped her hips fiercely, stilling them against the mattress. Yaz, blinded by sensation, scrabbled at the Doctor’s shirts, hot hands slipping under the last layer and trailing fire across the exposed skin beneath. They groaned in unison at the contact, bodies melting into one another.

They didn’t hear the knock.

“Sorry, for disturbing you two, but Sher– CHRIST ON A BIKE!”

Yaz sat bolt upright, headbutting the Doctor who tumbled off the bed with a shocked squeal, clutching her face.

“CRAP!”

“JOHN?" 

“Oh, Jesus, I’m so _sorry_! I had no idea – bloody _hell_ , sorry!” Watson was beetroot red and had turned to face the wall, babbling his apologies.

“S’ok,” the Doctor picked herself up from the floor with a muffled groan, fingers pinching a heavily bleeding nose.

“Oh, crap! Did I do that to you?” Yaz leapt up, grabbing the washcloth the Doctor had fetched earlier.

“Don’t worry – I doh you didn’t do dat on purpose.”

Ignoring the nasal protests, Yaz held the Doctor’s chin in one hand, and wiped away the blood that had tracked down her chin and neck. When she reached the dark stain of the timelord’s collar, she pressed the cloth against the material, trying to draw out the ruddy liquid. She heard a quiet gasp and made the mistake of looking up, meeting the Doctor’s darkened eyes. Yaz bit her lip, her gaze dropping to the timelord’s still-swollen mouth, thinking how easy it would be to lean forward and –

“Again – so sorry – but I do need your help.”

Moment shattered, Yaz swivelled to see John still facing the wall, the back of his neck still pink with embarrassment.

“Yeah,” she swallowed, dropping her hands to her side and stepping back slightly, “Sure, sorry – didn’t mean for you to –" 

“Later - once I’ve given my retinas a good scrub,” he was almost certainly smirking, Yaz thought. “But right now, I need you two focussed on other things. Sherlock has gone.”

“Gone?” the Doctor gave her nose a tentative wipe with the washcloth, the haemorrhage stemmed for now. “What d’ya mean, gone?”

“Look, I don’t know,” John turned around at last, pink cheeks tinged with worry. “We were chatting while we got ready for bed – separately might I add” he raised an eyebrow in their direction, “- and when I came back from the bathroom he’d disappeared.” 

“Does he normally do that?” Yaz narrowed her eyes.

“Yeah,” John sighed, “at home he’s always dashing out to chase down some idea or other, but,” he paused, frowning at them, “it’s just that he’s been pretty rattled all day, ever since –”

“Since he saw that thing?” Yaz nodded grimly, feeling the Doctor edge closer and brush a hand against hers.

“Exactly.”

“Are you worried he’s in trouble?” the Doctor asked softly, glancing at Yaz. “Because if so, you need to go after him and we’re coming too.”

“Thanks,” John took in a deep breath, relief spreading across his face. “Seriously, that would be great.”

“Don’t worry about it,” the Doctor smiled warmly, “Yaz is all fixed now, so we’re good to go.”

John laughed, despite himself, “Ha - if I helped my patients like that, I’d be arrested!" 

“No, but seriously,” Yaz sputtered, “she was fixing my hands – look!” She held out her bandaged palms for inspection.

“Yeah?” John smirked, eyes twinkling mischievously, “Well you’re gonna need one helluva plaster for your neck.”

“Huh?” Yaz ran both hands up and down her throat as she headed out of the door after the chuckling Watson, “Doctor? What’s he on about?”

The timelord didn’t answer but had the decency to blush a deep scarlet before shrugging on her coat and following the pair down the stairs.

* * *

 

“Sherlock! _Sherrrrlock_!” John turned on Yaz, “Are you sure he’s out here?”

She had lead them back to the hollow, somehow knowing that this was where the detective would have headed. When they had talked over dinner earlier, John and the Doctor had filled them in on what they had uncovered at the military base.

They had spoken with an operative, Dr Bob Franklin, who had worked with Henry’s father and, thanks to the sonic screwdriver, had also discovered what the pair had been working on before his untimely demise. It sounded like a strange project – neurotransmitters and water – but Sherlock had perked up when the Doctor had elaborated on the science. Yaz and John let the pair natter on, before deciding that a round of drinks was overdue, and the conversation had relaxed a little after that.

But Yaz had seen the cogs in Sherlock’s great mind ticking over, even as he engaged in their banter. They had shared something today - a moment of pure terror - and she knew that his logic wouldn’t let him rest until all the pieces made sense.  Returning to the hollow, where it had all began – this was the piece of the puzzle he was missing. 

“He’ll be here,” Yaz said with absolute certainty.

“Then where the hell is he? Because if he’s hurt, I’ll-” 

John’s anger was born of anxiety, they knew, but the Doctor was having none of it.

“Step off, Watson. You leave Yaz outta this, or you’ll have me to deal with, and trust me,” she moved between the pair of them, standing tall and narrowing her eyes at him, “you really don’t wanna see me angry.”

The fair-haired man seemed to shrink, casting his eyes down to the forest-floor. “I’m sorry, I – I’m just worried he’s in some kind of trouble. He can be such an idiot at times,” he met their eyes, concern etched in the lines of his brow, “but he’s my idiot.”

The Doctor visibly relaxed, and always quick in forgiveness, she reached out to grip John’s shoulder comfortingly.

“That’s ok – now, let’s get back to it.”

They renewed their shouting, spreading out to look for signs that Sherlock had been here. Yaz’s torch cast around in the blackness, picking out fallen branches, mounds of earth, and something that reflected the beam back at her, glinting.

“Weird.” She knelt down, pushing aside a blanket of leaves to reveal a flat black object, flush with the forest-floor. She stood up, turning back to call for her companions, when –

_KA-THUMP_

“What the –”

Then a cacophony of noises erupted from somewhere ahead of her.

“YAZ?” 

She heard the Doctor’s shout even above the din and suddenly she was running, propelling herself towards whatever danger lay in wait.

The scene that greeted her made her blood run cold. She saw John - lying on the floor, completely still, a horrible dark patch marking his right temple. Sherlock was bent over him, ashen features glowing spookily in the torch-light, wrists bound together and hanging uselessly behind his back. The two other figures were stood a few metres away, a darker haired young man and familiar blonde silhouette of the Doctor. As she stepped forward, Yaz’s torch beam caught the metallic gleam of a weapon in the man’s hand and a violent wave of nausea rose in her throat.

Even as her heart lodged in her throat, Yaz’s police mind automatically started registering details. She saw the short, neat hair and the protuberant ears of the man, and recognised Henry Knight, Sherlock and John’s client. Lowering her gaze, she took in the visible tremor as he held the blunt-nosed pistol out in front of him. Scanning across, she saw the Doctor’s arms raised to shoulder height, palms outward as though she were trying to calm a frightened animal. 

“ _Doctor_ ,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“It’s ok, don’t worry…” The slight crack of the timelord’s voice did nothing to assuage her fears.

“Doctor, please!”

“You’re ok, you don’t need that,” the blonde figure stepped tentatively forwards. “You don’t want to hurt any of us – I know that…”

Yaz was barely breathing, torn between wanting to throw herself between the Doctor and this deadly threat, and knowing she should give her space to try and end this peacefully.

“You can stop this,” the Doctor pleaded gently, stepping forwards once again, closing the gap, “you just have to put it down.”

Henry seemed to be entranced and, swaying slightly, he leant forwards, stretching out his hand as if to hand the weapon over when – 

_CRINCH_

\- a twig snapped loudly beneath the Doctor’s foot.

The tension shattered, and everyone exploded into action. The Doctor made a snatch for the weapon; Yaz threw herself forwards towards the timelord; and Henry, shrieked, jerking the pistol back and pulling the trigger.

The hollow echoed with their screams.

***** TO BE CONTINUED *****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh... you guys ok?


	15. A Night in the Woods

Yaz lay sprawled on the hard ground, winded and gasping for air. She looked around, dazed, and felt something in her eye. Blinking, she raised one hand to wipe across her face and felt it slide away, cold and wet.

“Rain?” she muttered confusedly to herself, squinting at her hand, but it was too dark to see anything much. 

She heard a muffled shout, and looked up, seeing nothing in the darkness, and hurriedly scrabbled around in the leaves, feeling for her torch. Finding it, she flicked it on and pushed herself to her feet with a wobble, the torch-beam casting flickering shadows as it trembled in her hand.

Then the light fell upon a scene straight out of her nightmares. The crouched figure of Sherlock was yelling and shaking John, who lay ragdoll-like unmoving in a patch of leaves. A few metres away all she could see of the Doctor was a blonde tuft of hair and some muddied limbs, as they kicked and punched desperately at her assailant, who still held the pistol aloft.

Yaz’s ears were filled with shouts and the sounds of bodies tussling against the forest floor, and her eye prickled again as something trickled into it. Wiping the wetness away with the back of one hand, she shook herself and strode dizzily forward. 

“Stop,” her voice sounded hollow and weak even in her head.

She closed her eyes briefly, summoning up her last reserves of energy. An image sprang unbidden into her mind:

_A young girl, hiding her bruised face in dark plaits of hair as she cowered in the corner of a toilet cubicle. She could hear the jeers of her tormenters as they called her name, laughing and rattling the door, and she felt the tears run silently down her cheeks, hoping that this time they would go away. They didn’t, and she watched fearfully as the lock on the door separating them slid slowly back. The girl was exhausted and afraid, but she knew that she couldn’t show them weakness, so she stood slowly to face them, fists raised in front of her – one last effort._

“No,” Yaz curled her fingers into fists, feeling a surge of anger rise in her, “not then, Izzy Flint, and certainly not today.”

Wiping a slick hand across her forehead, she squared her shoulder, and with a shout of defiance, ran full tilt at Henry Knight, as he levelled the pistol at the Doctor pinned beneath him. 

“ _GET OFF HERRR!”_

She lowered her body, like a rugby player, and felt her shoulder collide with his soft flank, knocking the tall man sideways and away from the timelord. He gave a shriek of surprise and dropped the pistol which exploded with sound, firing off the loaded round.

The Doctor gave a cry of pain and clutched her shoulder, curling up into a ball on the cold earth.

 _“GRRRAAHHHHHH!_ ”

With a roar of shock and fury, Yaz leapt on Henry’s back, pinning him down and twisting his arms up behind him. She patted down her jacket pocket, feeling for the comforting metal, and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. Fastening them tightly around Henry’s wrists – trapped skin be damned – she jumped off, rushing over to where the Doctor lay.

“It’s ok, it’s ok,” Yaz muttered, half to herself, “he can’t hurt you anymore.”

Gingerly she pried the timelord’s fingers away from her shoulder and saw the dark, wet patch against her pale coat.

“ _Shit_ ,” she swore under her breath.

Quickly shrugging off her jacket and jumper, Yaz wriggled out of her long-sleeved top, ripping the thinner material into uneven strips of cloth. With a whimper of pain from the Doctor, she managed to shimmy the coat-sleeve down, allowing her easier access to the shoulder. Shining her torch on the wound, she saw to her relief that it was a deep graze, with no dreaded exit or entry tracks. A welt of blood oozed up and she balled up one of the cotton strips, placing it over the injury. 

“I’m really sorry about this,” she said through gritted teeth, and pressed down firmly with both hands.

The Doctor’s scream almost broke her.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she babbled, reaching for the other bits of cloth, winding them firmly around the make-shift padding. The blonde was whimpering quietly now, white as a sheet, but at least her eyes were open now.

“Doctor,” Yaz bent down, using the torch beam to briefly check her ocular reflexes, “don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

The Doctor squinted up at her, still panting with pain, but spots of colour gradually returning to her cheeks.

“Yaz…” 

“Yeah, I’m here – what is it?”

“Yaz…” the Doctor groaned, trying to sit up, “…s’very pretty, but where’s your clothes?”

The young officer snorted in surprise, and then suddenly remembered.

“Oh, bollocks!” she said, hastily grabbing her jumper and jacket and yanking them over her head.

The Doctor giggled, singing deliriously to herself, “Yaz in a bra, she is a star, Yaztime in the woods!”

Brow knitted with worry, Yaz stared down at her - what was she supposed to do now? A low moan and an excited shout caught her attention and she swivelled her head to see Sherlock beckoning her over.

“He’s alive! He’s waking up!” the detective had freed his hands, and had John’s wrist in one, the doctor’s woollen jumper in the other. A relieved grin was spreading across his face. 

Yaz let out a breath, giving him a thumbs up, before turning back to her own doctor, who appeared finally to have passed out.

“Brilliant,” she rolled her eyes to the heavens, and tiredly picked herself up, using the last of her energy to drag the limp, blonde figure across the soft leaves to join Sherlock and John.

“Bloody hell,” Sherlock muttered in alarm, as she drew nearer, “what happened to your face?”

Relaxing her grip on the Doctor’s lapels, Yaz slumped heavily down next to the detective.

“Huh?” She raised a hand tentatively to her forehead, feeling that cold, slickness again. Drawing away, she held her palm out to Sherlock’s wavering torch beam, seeing it reflect a sickening, dark crimson.

“Oh,” she said softly, “not rain then?”

“No,” Sherlock’s face twitched with a grim smile, “How’s the Doctor?" 

“Shoulder injury and passed out, but she’ll live,” Yaz said lightly, hoping beyond hope that what she said was true. “What about John?”

Sherlock frowned, “Well he was moving about a moment ago, but I think he’s out of it again.”

“What happened to him?”

“Henry happened,” an ugly expression flickered across the detective’s sharp features.

“What?” Yaz let out a gasp.

“Something’s wrong.”

“You’re telling me?” 

“No,” Sherlock muttered, darkness replaced by puzzlement, “With Henry. He’s not in his right mind.”

“Hang on,” Yaz felt hot anger rearing up inside her, “He attacked John, tied you up, and shot me and the Doctor, and you’re worried about his mind?”

“You need to separate your feelings from the facts,” he insisted. “We’re missing something.”

Yaz exploded.

“MISSING SOMETHING? No shit, Sherlock!”

“Yaz…”

“NO, you LISTEN. The facts are that we’ve been attacked by a lunatic, two of us have been knocked out, and we’re back in these FREAKING woods in the middle of the night!”

“Yaz!”

“And if you think for ONE SECOND that either of us are any good at _separating our feelings_ from our –” she gestured wordlessly at the unconscious doctors, “then John’s wrong – you are _completely_ heartle-”

“OFFICER KHAN! Will you _shut up_!” 

Speechless, she turned to glare at him, panting with fury. They were sat close together, and she felt the moment his body went rigid with fear. Looking up in alarm she saw the colour drain from his face, eyes fixed on something ahead of them.

“Sherlock?” she could feel him trembling next to her. 

“It’s back,” he whispered with a terrified whimper.

She followed his gaze and saw it, a great, dark shadow leering over them from the far ridge. Her breath froze in her lungs, and she felt her body shake with a primal fear, pulse thudding in her ears. She could see, out of the corner of her eye, a shivering, keening mass that was the bound Henry, while the Doctor and John lay like pale corpses on the ground.

“Nooooo,” she moaned, her vision hazy as a wave of fear and exhaustion washed over her.

It moved, creeping down the bank, moving slowly towards them, maw open as it prepared to let out a bloodcurdling growl.

Yaz fell forwards, covering the Doctor’s body with her own – one final act of protection. She had nothing else left to give, her reserves evaporating as terror took hold. Closing her eyes, she buried her face in the timelord’s bloodied coat and feeling the grateful tug of unconsciousness, as a warm blackness seeped enveloped her. Right at the end, she heard it - a strange noise in the silence.

“Christ, I leave you alone for a few days…”

***** TO BE CONTINUED *****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry! At least it's earlier than expected though?


	16. Explanations and Extracurriculars

It was only a few hours later, though it felt like days, Yaz thought as she pulled the blanket tighter around her, feeling the warm weight of the Doctor against her side.

“Right,” the grey-haired man was saying, confusion masking his handsome face, “now you’re all warm and awake, can someone please tell me what the heck is going on?”

“Only after you tell us what you’re doing here and not in Spain,” Sherlock shot back, stubbornly.

“Yeah, not that we’re not totally grateful, Greg,” John gave the detective a sharp nudge in the ribs, “but like he said, how did you find us and – hang on, Spain?”

“Oh, it’s obvious,” Sherlock rolled his eyes, “new tan appropriate to a Mediterranean climate; a spot of sun-cream on his shirt collar; and his watch is still an hour ahead.” 

“But why Spain?” Yaz frowned, biting, “France is an hour ahead too?”

“Greg hates France” John and Sherlock chorused in unison, grinning at each other.

Adjusting his watch and sighing, Detective Inspector Lestrade rolled his eyes “How did I ever manage without you? Anyway,” he continued, leaning back in his armchair, “realised olives and cured ham aren’t really my thing, so I thought I’d come home and see if you two fancied a pie and a pint.”

Sherlock was having none of it, “Mycroft sent you, didn’t he?”

“Look, Mycroft doesn’t _send_ me anywhere and he was worried so –”

“Honestly, all my big brother has to do is breathe and you just run along after him.”

“I wonder what that must be like,” Greg ignored the jibe, fixing John with a pointed look. 

“Thanks for rescuing us,” the Doctor beamed at the inspector, oblivious. “No idea how ye found us, but it was bloomin’ brilliant.” 

“Yeah, thanks, Detective Inspector,” Yaz smiled at him, “Dunno what we’d have done if you hadn’t’ve shown up.”

“You can call me Greg,” he grinned back, “and you weren’t exactly hard to find. Unsolved murder? Big beast on Dartmoor? Couple of nuts infiltrating a military research base? This had Sherlock written all over it.”

Sherlock raised a single eyebrow, “Mycroft has been tracking my phone, hasn’t he?” 

“Nope,” Yaz saw Greg slide his own smartphone surreptitiously into a pocket, “because that would be completely illegal.” 

She sniggered, and Greg flashed her a look, quickly changing tact.

“So, which one of you rag-tag bunch wants to catch me up on what the hell you were doing in the woods at 3am? Picnic?”

The four exchanged a tense look, before snorting into their drinks.

* * *

 

“So, let me get this stright,” Greg said, running a hand through his peppery hair, “this Franklin chap murdered Henry’s dad?”

Sherlock nodded, as if this were obvious.

“And, Henry started seeing big dogs as some kind of coping mechanism?”

Sighing heavily, the detective steepled his fingers, readying himself for the big reveal.

“Almost, Lestrade. But they weren’t dogs, they were hounds.”

“Yeah, you know, mythical, literary connotations and such – there’s a difference,” Yaz added, and Sherlock smiled approvingly at her. 

“You,” Greg jabbed a finger at Sherlock, “are a bad influence… but carry on.”

Yaz grinned, settling back against the Doctor, who wriggled under her arm and snuggled up.

“The hound was the single factor linking the two mysteries,” Sherlock continued in an excited tone, “it was an unusual choice of wording, but it wasn’t until these two,” he motioned at John and the Doctor, “made a discovery at that military base that it started to make sense.”

“Yeah, we were ace,” the Doctor enthused, before scrunching her face up and looking at the detective, “but I’m not sure exactly how?”

Eyes glittering, Sherlock pulled a pen from the DI’s top pocket and grabbed a napkin, scrawling something on it.

“Hang on,” John said slowly, frowning, “we found that strange file on the computers when the Doctor used her –" 

“ _Big_ brain – _massive_ intellect,” Yaz interrupted, throwing John a look that she hoped said ‘please don’t mention the sonic in front of the police’.

“Ooh, yeah, I’m super clever, me,” the Doctor nodded cheerily. 

“Yeah…” John continued, acknowledging the hint with a smooth flicker of one eyebrow, “so the Doctor found this file on the computer that talked about water and neurotransmitters that had Franklin and Knight Sr stamped all over it. Is that what you mean Sherlock?”

Sherlock nodded at John looking pleased, “Very astute, John.”

Watson blushed at the praise, giving the detective one of his warmest smiles.

“Flirt on your own time,” Greg grinned and shook his head, “but for those of us too thick to understand, how does that have any connection with a big, murder dog?” 

“Hound,” Yaz and the Doctor chorused together.

“Fine, hound!” the DI rolled his eyes in frustration. 

“It’s important,” Sherlock sighed, “because it wasn’t neurotransmitters and water on the file, it was hydrolysed neurological dampeners.”

The Doctor leaned in, perking up at the science-talk.

“And to be even more specific,” the detective smiled slyly, “it was hydrolysed organic unfractionated neurological dampeners.” 

With a theatrical flourish, he slid the napkin into the centre of the table, where the five words were written, their initials circled and spelling out –

“H.O.U.N.D.” Yaz breathed. 

“Ooooh, neat!” the Doctor exclaimed, “I love a good code.”

“Turns out Project H.O.U.N.D. was a top-secret CIA undertaking in the early 80s,” Sherlock drawled, smugly. “They were testing out a new nerve agent and some of the test-subjects died, so it got shut down, or so I thought. But it turns out Franklin continued working on it in secret and Knight Sr must have found out.”

“So, Franklin murdered Henry’s dad to protect his secret?” Yaz stared, open-mouthed.

“Worse than that,” Sherlock grimaced, “Henry saw it all.”

“What?!”

“Do you remember when we were interviewing him” the detective leaned forwards, looking at Yaz, “and he kept talking about how the hound killed his father while he hid?”

“Yeah,” Yaz nodded slowly, “but you said it was just his way to cope with the loss of his dad, a nightmare.”

“It was,” Sherlock agreed, “but I didn’t realise how close to the truth it was until John told me about you two doing the same thing yesterday. Oh, and let it never be said I’m a bad loser,” he turned to John, slipping him a ten-pound note.

The Doctor perked up, “Ooh, you mean when Yaz saved me with that snog?”

John sprayed a mouthful of beer over Greg and Yaz whispered furiously, “ _Shut_. _Up!_ ”

Her cheeks were so red she thought they might set light, but the Doctor hummed happily, wriggling her head and shoulders under the officer’s arm. 

“Didn’t realise this was a double-date-get-away,” Lestrade sniggered, wiping foam off his jacket.

It was John’s turn to blush scarlet and he choked on a second mouthful of beer. Sherlock patted him on the back, trying to look aloof but failing to supress the spots of colour rising in his cheeks. 

“Morons,” he muttered, failing to sound annoyed. “Anyway, as I was trying to explain, it suddenly hit me that Henry had been hiding in that tree trunk and it all made sense. Why was it that only Yaz and I saw the creatures yesterday? Why was Henry hallucinating about hounds, and not something more mundane? The answers lie in that woody hollow.”

“They do?” Yaz frowned, fanning her face with her free hand.

Sherlock grinned eerily at them over steepled fingers, “Yes, when Knight Sr. and Franklin had their deadly rendezvous, little Henry must have followed them and crawled into the gap in that tree trunk to hide. When he saw what Franklin did, his young mind couldn’t cope and tried to fill in the gaps. All you need is a H.O.U.N.D. logo, some dark clothing, and possibly a gas mask – and to a terrified little kid, that becomes –” 

“A great, black hound with red eyes” the Doctor gasped.

“Exactly,” Sherlock nodded, grimly, “and whatever it is Franklin is working on, he’s rigged that place up to leak nerve agent into the area. Every time Henry returns there, he sees it again, reinforcing the false memory and ensuring Franklin’s secret stays hidden.”

“But why did we see it?” Yaz asked, puzzled.

“The power of suggestion,” the Doctor answered, Sherlock nodding sagely at her. “You’d spent an entire morning with Henry talking to you in detail about this nightmare creature stalking him. You went out there looking for it and when you heard hoofbeats, you thought hounds not horses.”

“It’s zebras...,” the officer whispered quietly into the Doctor’s ear, “but I get you." 

“Precisely,” Sherlock nodded enthusiastically, “we were primed to see the thing, which is why even though John and the Doctor must have breathed the stuff in too, they weren’t nearly as affected. If only I could figure out how it knew when to disperse the chemical, I mean, it would have been obvious if everyone was coming out of the woods seeing visions…”

“Ooh!” Yaz sat up sharply and almost dislodging the Doctor as she remembered something. “I found something in the leaves – like a weird, flat, metal object?” she mimed dimensions with her fingers.

“Pressure pads! Genius!” the detective thumped the table, sending the remainder of Lestrade’s drink flying. “You know, if you ever get bored of travelling around with the Doctor, I’m sure I could find an opening in our team…”  

A resounding “NO!” echoed around the table. Sherlock sat back looking haughty and offended, and John, Greg, Yaz, and the Doctor fell about laughing.

* * *

 

“He’s a complete genius, you know,” Yaz shouted to the Doctor from the bedroom as she busied herself gathering up their things into cases ready for the morning. “Completely mad, obviously, but a genius nonetheless. Not like you,” she added, grinning, “you’re just mad!” 

“Oi!” the Doctor yelled from behind the bathroom door, “Half an hour ago you were telling people I’ve got a massive intellect.”

“I should have said ‘big gob’,” Yaz called back, smirking.

“Well, you weren’t complaining about it much earlier…”

“Yeah… well… oh shut up!”

 _Smooth, Khan_ , she thought to herself, _real smooth_. Honestly, it was ridiculous how easily she blushed nowadays – what had happened to her cool, calm police exterior?

The Doctor did appear to have stopped talking for now though, which was weird. Yaz hoped she hadn’t actually offended her.

“Doc? You know I’m just winding you up, right?”

Silence.

“Doctor?”

She got up from the bed, dropping their bags on the floor, and walking the short distance to the bathroom door. She knocked tentatively.

“Doc, are you ok in there?”

No answer.

 _Great_ , she thought, _now I’m worried that you’ve passed out in the shower and I’ve no option but to barge in and check on you_.

“Doctor, I’m coming in,” she shouted loudly, before twisting the handle and entering.

White steam billowed out at her, and for a moment she was blinded, swearing loudly as her knee connected with the cistern. Then the mist cleared, and she saw the Doctor standing with her back to her, fully clothed in the shower. Seemingly, she hadn’t heard a thing through the powerful jets of water. Rolling her eyes in relief and amusement, she stepped closer and tapped sharply on the glass divide to get the timelord’s attention.

“Saturn’s rings!” the Doctor squealed in shock, and promptly slipped to the floor with a loud splash.

“Oh, crap!” Yaz exclaimed, pulling back the door to help her up.

Grabbing the proffered hand, the Doctor tried to pull herself back up, groaning with the effort.  However, Yaz had wildly misjudged her centre of gravity and she tumbled forwards with a yell to join the blonde in a wet, tangle on the shower floor.

“Ooof, gerroff,” she giggled, trying to pull an arm out from under the Doctor’s back whilst simultaneously trying to twist an ankle from the pocket of the sodden coat.

“You know, if you wanted to join me in the shower,” the Doctor laughed, trying and failing to wriggle into a sitting position, “you could have just asked.” 

Snorting, Yaz looked at her through dripping lashes, “Not if your showers involve four layers of clothing – honestly, is this normal for you?”

“I was trying to get my coat clean,” the Doctor protested, looking for all the world like a bedraggled puppy.

“Have you by any chance heard,” Yaz pulled her foot free with a wet squelch, “of a washing machine?”

She was rewarded with spray of water as the Doctor slipped again, landing in a puddle.

“Oh, like that is it?” Yaz raised her eyebrows in a challenge, and she reached up for the shower rail, trying to pull herself up into a kneeling position.

“More like this!” the Doctor grinned, digging her fingers into the younger officer’s unprotected sides.

Doubling up with a shriek of mirth, Yaz let go of the rail and fell clumsily across the giggling blonde. She grabbed the offending hands and pinned them above the Doctor’s head, half-straddling her on the slippery shower floor. Taking a moment to catch her breath, Yaz looked down at the chuckling timelord beneath her, water cascading off her forehead and drenching them both.

“What is it about you and this place and soaking wet clothing?” Yaz smirked down at the damp blonde.

The Doctor bit her lip, affecting an American accent, “Is it still raining? I hadn’t noticed.”

“You are ridiculous,” Yaz laughed, leaning down to claim that hot, damp mouth with her own.

***** TO BE CONTINUED *****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year and Happy Who Year's Day! Hoping this can tide you through to the episode tonight! x


	17. A Long-Awaited Shower

The kiss was everything Yaz needed after the terror and exhaustion of the last twenty-four hours. Their lips slid over each other, seeking out the touch of the other, eyes closed and led by touch alone. Quiet sighs of contentment were swallowed up, warm huffs of air a sharp contrast with the refreshing spray of water.

The Doctor twisted beneath Yaz, and suddenly there was a new angle, and their mouth locking together in delicious alignment.

The younger woman groaned quietly, parting her lips as an insistent tongue begged entrance, entwining with her own. With one hand still pinning the timelord’s wrists above her head, she lowered the other to trace pale cheekbones, the skin damp and warm beneath her touch.

Yaz could feel the Doctor grinning against her lips, and she drew away slightly, blinking down to see hazel eyes twinkling back up at her. It was intimacy beyond all she had known before, the two of them wrapped around each other, noses nudging and lips mere millimetres apart with the heat of their kiss still lingering. A rivulet of water trickled into her mouth and she could taste the tell-tale salt.

“Please don’t cry,” the Doctor’s face had fallen, and she shook her hands free, wiping the pads of her thumbs under Yaz’s eyes.

“Sorry,” Yaz sniffed, pushing away the damp, blonde locks plastering the pale forehead, “it’s just all so much.” 

“Oh,” the Doctor’s voice was small, and she dropped her hands to her sides with a muffled splash. 

“No, I didn’t mean it like that,” Yaz smiled, tenderly tucking an errant curl behind the timelord’s ear. “This,” she touched her lips softly to the Doctor’s, “this is amazing.”

She drew away again, dark irises meeting hazel, “It’s just that I never expected… I didn’t know…” she tailed off, hoping that her eyes would communicate all the thoughts she couldn’t express.

“Oh,” the Doctor said again, quietly, a soft smile crinkling her eyes.

“Yeah,” Yaz nodded shyly.

The timelord brought both her hands up to cup the younger woman’s face, gently wiping away the dampness there. Tugging her gently down, the Doctor pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, followed by several more along the bridge of her nose. Yaz melted into the gentle touches, resting her weight on her elbows and burying her hands in the tousled, blonde hair. 

When the Doctor planted a feather-light kiss to the angry graze on her forehead, the young officer winced.

“Sorry, is it still sore?” the timelord’s brow creased in concern.

“Mmm,” Yaz pulled a face, “a bit.”

“Maybe it needs a little sonic wizardry?”

“Yeah, that’d be great.”

The timelord grinned, “Reckon we could both do with an injury-free day!”

“Oh crap!” Yaz snatched her elbow away from the Doctor’s left side so hastily, that she soaked them both in a fresh wave of shower-water. “I completely forgot!”

“It’s nothing,” the Doctor protested half-heartedly.

“No, it’s not! How could I forget about your shoulder?” Yaz gabbled, clambering off the timelord, “You got shot for goodness sake!”

“Honestly it’s – owww!”

The cramped shower cubicle didn’t allow much room for manoeuvring and the younger officer had accidentally caught her foot in the long, wet coat as she propped the Doctor up against the tiled wall. Straddling the timelord’s outstretched legs, Yaz gently eased the left arm out of the sodden coat sleeve,

“Sorry,” she murmured, trying to keep the joint as still as possible as she freed the limb.

“Ye know, I’m getting the strangest sense of déja-vu…” the Doctor grinned at her.

“Ha,” Yaz huffed, “but this time around there’s fewer mad men with guns?” 

“Hmmm,” the timelord cocked her head, “I was gonna say that you’re wearing more clothes.”

The younger officer blushed, “Well I had to bandage you up with something?”

“Woah, wait – you used your top?”

“Yeah – this one’s new” Yaz rolled her eyes, picking at her blue shirt “What you just thought I’d stripped for the fun of it?”

“Well, I did wonder,” the Doctor stuck her tongue out mischievously.

Yaz chuckled, “This is not how I pictured you’d look in my clothes.” 

“Oh?” the Doctor raised an eyebrow. 

Realising what she’d just said, the young woman backpedalled furiously. “No, I meant – I don’t know why I said –”

“Because I’d love to see you try to pull off my braces…”

Yaz gulped loudly, her cheeks burning, images racing through her mind.

“Yeah, anyway, your shoulder,” she cleared her throat, trying to focus, “let’s have a look.”

The Doctor smirked up at her.

“Gonna see what I look like out of your clothes too?”

Yaz snorted, breaking the tension.

“Oh, that was bad. I’ve had better lines on Tinder!”

“Huh? Humans flirting with flammable objects? Is that a thing now?” the Doctor looked baffled.

Yaz giggled, splashing her lightly, “No, you muppet, it’s like dating app on your phone – you know, to meet people?” 

“Weird,” the Doctor scrunched up her face, “What happened to meeting people out and about?”

“It’s difficult when everyone’s got such busy lives, I guess?” Yaz shrugged, frowning at the dark stain on the navy top.

“So, did you, er, meet many people on this Kindling thing?” the Doctor’s voice sounded strangely breezy.

“Nah, not really,” Yaz muttered, before leaning back and narrowing her eyes at the timelord, “Hang on – are you jealous?”

“Me? What makes you think –”

“Oh my god, you are,” Yaz rolled her eyes, chuckling, “talk about double standards!”

“Huh?”

“You,” she tapped the Doctor’s chest lightly, “have got a whole photo album of your exes next to your bedside.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go so far as –”

“Then let me set the record straight,” Yaz raised her eyebrows with a sigh. “You might be some sort of cosmic Casanova, but I don’t really get that kind of attention. Three years on Tinder, several terrible coffee-dates later, and I’ve only ever met one person that was worth mentioning.”

The Doctor kept quiet, watching the young officer carefully.

“In fact,” Yaz’s mouth quirked up in a cheeky smile, “it was weird how we bumped into each other. See, I was at work and this crazy woman crashed through the roof of a train, and she was wearing this weirdly hot raggedy suit-waistcoat combo but –”

“Ooh, that was me!” the Doctor piped up excitedly. 

Yaz raised an eyebrow, waiting patiently. 

“Ooh, that was _me_ ,” the timelord repeated slowly, staring at her wonderingly, “You mean the one person you’ve met who’s worth mentioning, was me?”

Yaz smiled back at her, adoringly.

“Well, now we’ve cleared that up, it’s time to get you cleaned up,” she said after a moment, leaning forwards and gently unwinding the strips from Doctor’s shoulder.

Still looking at her in awe, the timelord shifted forwards slightly, allowing the strips of stained cotton to fall away, exposing an angry red gash. Tentatively, Yaz pressed around the wound, pulling the Doctor’s tops slightly to one side to properly examine the surrounding skin. The blonde gritted her teeth and hissed as a trickle of water hit the exposed flesh.

“Sorry,” Yaz murmured, rinsing one of the cotton strips in the shower spray and dabbing carefully at the graze.

“How’s it looking?” the Doctor winced, squeezing her eyes shut.

“Not bad actually, now if you’ll bear with me just a little –" 

“Ouch!” 

“- longer… I think I can… there. How’s that?”

The Doctor opened her eyes and glanced sideways at her newly-bandaged shoulder.

“Blimey – I barely felt that,” she grinned up at Yaz.

“Magic fingers.”

“I’ll say,” the Doctor winked at her.

“Hmm,” Yaz appraised her handiwork, biting her lip in concentration 

“Oi,” the timelord pouted, “you cannot be doing things like that.”

Yaz shook a wet curtain of dark hair out of her face, to meet her gaze, “What d’you mean? I’ve just fixed you up for the second time this week.”

“No, no, that’s all good,” the Doctor’s mouth twitched, “but you have got to stop biting your lip.”

Her eyes flickered down to Yaz’s mouth.

“I see,” the young officer smirked, darting her tongue out to wet the dry skin, “and what makes you think I’m taking orders off you?”

“Oh,” the timelord’s eyes darkened into twin pools of desire, “I think you’ll find I can be _very_ persuasive.”

The next thing Yaz knew, the Doctor’s mouth was on hers.

She was vaguely aware of fingers tangling in her hair, holding her there, but then an insistent tongue slid against hers and everything else faded away. There was just the Doctor’s hunger as she sucked in a bottom lip, biting down and groaning hotly into her mouth.

Yaz felt about blindly for something to cling on to, fingers curling around the sodden braces, feeling dizzy with sensation. The Doctor tugged at her hair, pulling them closer still, and Yaz’s ankle caught the shower hose, dousing them both in the hot spray.

Even as the water cascaded down their faces, Yaz could feel an unquenchable, burning heat building between them. She gave herself over completely to the Doctor, surrendering willingly to the ravishment of her lips and tingling skin.

The Doctor released her mouth with a bruised moan and forged a trail of fire down her neck. Yaz groaned loudly, leaning back with her hands knotted in the braces, granting her access. 

The movement forced her body forwards, her chest pressing tightly up against the Doctor’s. When she felt teeth grazing her collar-bone, she writhed deliriously, arching her back further. In doing so she rubbed tantalisingly up against the Doctor and they both gasped with heady pleasure, feeling twin jolts of sensation even through their soaked shirts.

With a growl, the Doctor was on her again, mouth devouring hers and a hand fisted in her hair. Yaz felt the other hand drop to her hip, before sliding beneath the dripping cotton and reaching up for the clasp of her bra. She pushed up against the Doctor, giving her room, desperate for something she couldn’t name.

She moaned, feeling the slight ping as the first hook loosened under scrabbling fingers, quivering in anticipation and -

“GIIIAAAAHHHHHHH!” 

They both shrieked as they were doused in icy water.

***** TO BE CONTINUED *****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry-not-sorry?


	18. Cold Water

They leapt apart, shouting and scrambling to get out of the freezing downpour. Yaz whacked her head on the shower door as they both tumbled out in a shivering puddle of clothes and water. She lay for a moment on the rapidly soaked bathmat, looking up at the bright spotlights and rubbing her temple, the dead-weight of the Doctor flopped over her lower-body.

“Crikey that was c-cold!” the timelord squeaked, her voice raw with shock.

Yaz wasn’t sure she trusted herself to speak, her lips were tingling as though electrified, and while most of her felt icy cold, her face and neck still felt like they were burning. She perfunctorily patted herself down, checking for any obvious injuries… or fires.

“Doc, you’re shivering,” she pushed herself up onto her elbows, once she realised the trembling in her legs wasn’t her own.

“S-s-sorry,” the Doctor stammered, trying to wrap herself around Yaz’s legs for warmth, “S’two hearts – better c-circulation, but m-means I l-lose heat quicker.” 

“Come here,” Yaz shuffled awkwardly back against the heated-towel-rail and reaching up for a bath-sheet.

The Doctor shook off her dripping coat and crawled over to the younger officer, crawling into her lap and letting her drape them both in warm towelling. Slipping an arm around the Doctor’s waist, Yaz drew her close, trying to maintain as much of their body heat as possible. The timelord curled her arms around the younger woman’s neck, nuzzling her face into the crook and pulling the sheet up around them. 

“Your nose is really cold,” Yaz complained, but she didn’t pull away.

“’Rorry,” the Doctor murmured against her neck, “s’this any better?” She began huffing hot air out through her nose in an attempt to warm it.

Yaz squealed, trying to wriggle away.

“Gerroff!” she tried to shove the blonde head away, “that’s really ticklish!”

The Doctor clung to her a like a damp koala-bear, nuzzling further into Yaz’s neck with warm puffs of air. 

“Doc- _tor_ ,” Yaz giggled, trying unsuccessfully to prise her away.

Then she felt something warm and damp press against the skin just below her jaw.

“Doctor?” 

This was suddenly replaced by a cool, tingling sensation as she felt the timelord breathing, _no_ , blowing against her neck. 

“Uh, Doctor?” Yaz’s throat was suddenly dry and she could feel heat creeping up her neck and into her cheeks. 

“Problem?”

The hummed reply made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end and she swallowed hard. She felt something the tip of something hot and wet flicker over her pulse point, and the world seemed to shift beneath her. She rolled her eyes back and bit her lip hard as the sensation of teeth nipping at the delicate skin threatened to overwhelm her.

She couldn’t breathe, daren’t move. 

“Doc- _aaaaah_ …”

The word broke off as she felt the Doctor’s left-hand slip from her neck to travel down her side, the tip of her thumb skimming tantalisingly against the swell of her breast. The damp clothing did little to disguise the sudden arousal that surged through her, and she gasped again as the hand paused on its journey before slowly, achingly retracing its steps. 

Yaz impulsively gripped the Doctor’s wrist, holding her hand in place. Her head was dizzy with desire and she wasn’t sure she could bear much more of this slow torture.

She felt the Doctor shift and opened her eyes to see her watching her, face creased with concern.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to assume –”

Yaz blinked, quickly realising that the Doctor thought she didn’t want this, didn’t want her.

Holding her gaze steady, she slid the timelord’s hand slowly but surely upwards to rest against the soft peaks of her chest.

The Doctor’s mouth formed a small ‘oh’ of surprise.

Yaz smiled at her and tried to regulate her breathing as she dropped her own hand, leaving the paler one in its place.  She could feel the heat of the Doctor’s hand burning through the layers of clothing and the electric thrumming of her body responding to the touch.

The timelord seemed frozen in place, blinking rapidly and mouth moving wordlessly.

“It’s ok,” Yaz whispered, breathless with anticipation.

“Oh no it’s not,” the Doctor said in a strained voice.

Then she snatched her hands to her face, sneezing violently.

“Doh dear…” she sneezed again, an adorable look of surprise on her face.

“Doctor, are you ok?” Yaz cocked her head to one side, frowning.

The timelord sneezed four times in reply.

“Right,” Yaz sighed as the moment between them slipped away, “bed. We’re both exhausted and the last thing we need is intergalactic flu.” 

Rising slowly, she towelled them down and helped the Doctor over to the enticing warmth of a thick duvet. Feeling a sudden wave of exhaustion hit her, she found just enough energy to pull off their soaked trousers and socks, slipping a dry shirt over each of them and climbing into bed. Wrapping an arm around the timelord, she pulled her close, feeling her shiver and sneeze, and hoping that a few hours rest would do them both the world of good. 

* * *

 

“Good night last night was it?” John raised a sardonic eyebrow at them over his cup of tea, and elbowing Lestrade in the ribs as the women sat down opposite. 

“What d’you mean?” Yaz frowned at him as she poured out two steaming mugs for the her and the Doctor.

“I mean,” John looked put out and amused at the same time, “that when we tried to have a shower this morning, there was no hot water. Apparently,” he fixed Yaz with a look worthy of Sherlock himself, “somebody used it all up last night?”. 

“Nope, not us, definitely not us,” the Doctor replied, scronching her face up unconvincingly.

Yaz buried her head in her hands.

“He didn’t say some _bodies_ ,” she muttered under her breath. “Hang on –” her mouth twitched as she looked up at John, “what do you mean ‘when _we_ tried to have a shower’?”

The Doctor caught on quickly, “Ooooooh….” 

John’s face was the same colour as his favourite red shirt and he spluttered in reply. “I mean that we both got up separately to have a shower, obviously, and I don’t think that Sherlock would appreciate you implying – I mean really do you think –” 

Yaz sniggered, her own embarrassment forgotten, “I think you know better than us what Sherlock would _… appreciate_ …”

“Maybe a cold shower is just what you both needed anyway,” Greg smirked.

John mouthed a few choice words, before making a great fuss of shaking his paper and folding it away, while the three of them cackled with laughter. 

It was at that point that Sherlock made his entrance.

“Sorry, John, couldn’t find my towel, so I borrowed yours,” he muttered, sliding into the high-backed chair and reaching for the sugar.

Greg snorted so hard into his drink that he sprayed a fine mist of tea over Yaz and the Doctor, who fell about, clutching their sides with mirth. John slid so low in his chair he was practically horizontal.

“Was it something I said?” he raised an eyebrow, casting a quick wink in the Doctor and Yaz’s direction.

“Something like that,” the young officer chuckled, wiping the moisture from her face, and glancing at the timelord who was trying to lick tea off the back of her hand.

“So,” John cleared his throat, trying to rescue what was left of his dignity, “I just wanted to say that it’s been really great having your help with this case. Lord knows where we’d be if it was just me and this idiot putting it together – he’d probably have drugged me at least twice by now.” 

“Cheek,” Sherlock sniffed, lip quirking in amusement, “but as John said, thank you.” 

“Can’t believe we’ve actually worked with Sherlock Holmes!” the Doctor grinned, spreading her hands wide in glee.

“Your services were appreciated, Doctor and Officer,” the detective nodded curtly, “it’s so refreshing to work with a professional.”

Lestrade and John pointedly ignored the jibe.

“Yeah, thanks girls,” Greg added, running a hand through his hair, “one more murdered locked up, and a sick man given some closure. Not a bad outing.” 

“Thank you, sir,” Yaz smiled warmly, “honestly, it’s been a pleasure to work with Scotland Yard.” 

“Well if ever you’re looking for a new job opportunity, feel free to get in touch,” he shrugged.

Yaz blushed at the offer, but shook her head, “Sorry, but I’ve already accepted a pretty great offer.” She turned to smile at the Doctor, who returned it with a grin, slipping her warm hand into Yaz’s.

“Seriously though,” John smiled, catching Yaz’s eye, “if ever you fancy another crack at it, you know where to find us.”

“Thanks,” she said, the Doctor nodding enthusiastically at her side. 

“Brill! But we probably should head off now, got lots of times to be.”

“You mean places to be?” Greg corrected her.

“Ooh, those too,” the Doctor beamed, dragging Yaz up and throwing a hold-all over her shoulder. 

With Lestrade muttering ‘Why are the brilliant ones always crazy?’ to an amused John, they all made their way outside, to where the TARDIS waited.

“Aren’t you catching the train with us?” John frowned, as the they hugged their goodbyes.

“Oh, don’t worry about us,” the Doctor grinned, “we’ve got our transport sorted.”

“That thing?” Greg snorted, “What you gonna just fly away in it?” 

“Pretty much,” Yaz shrugged, shaking Sherlock’s hand warmly. 

“Right…” John nodded, mockingly.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes, considering.

“You really must explain all this to me one day, Doctor. You did promise after all.”

“True – and I never break a promise,” the timelord grinned at him as the wind whipped at her blonde hair. “I’m sure we’ll see you again soon, Brainbox.”

And she opened the TARDIS door, ushering Yaz inside with a last wave.

“You’re gonna love this bit!” she winked at the detective, before shutting the door. 

As the light flashed and the ship purred, two jaws hit the floor, and Sherlock laughed delightedly, watching the blue box dematerialise from the Dartmoor countryside.

* * *

 

Wiggling the controls into neutral, the Doctor looked up from the central console, catching Yaz’s eye. They both looked at each other for a moment, before their mouths split into twin grins and they ran at each other with outstretched arms. 

“BRILLIANT!” 

“AMAZING!”

“Sherlock Holmes!”

“John Watson!” 

They screeched happily into each other’s ears, hugging and dancing around on the spot. The childish joy of discovery and the thrill of adventure hummed through them and they held on tightly until a fit of giggles overtook them and they flopped happily onto the purple sofa.

“Wow!” Yaz sighed, “It’s been a ridiculous couple of days,” she turned to smile at the timelord, “but I’ve loved almost every minute of it.”

“Almost?” the Doctor teased.

“You know, apart from the injuries, abject fear, and punishing lack of sleep.”

“Pfffft.” 

“I’ll have you know,” Yaz poked the Doctor’s uninjured shoulder, “that before I met you I used to get a healthy six to eight hours every night.”

“Oh yeah?” the blonde smirked, “When did you find the time to sleep?”

Yaz batted her away, chuckling and yawning.

“Alright, Romeo, now’s your chance – take me to bed or lose me forever!”

The Doctor frowned, “Shakespeare and Cruise? And you accused me of mixing my metaphors…”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously – ooh, Grey’s Anatomy!”

The Doctor leapt out of the way, giggling as Yaz swatted at her. Pushing herself off the sofa, she held out a hand to the younger woman, pulling her to her feet. As they stood together, swaying slightly, they gazed at each other, half-smiles still on their lips.

Then the Doctor’s eyes flickered to Yaz’s mouth, seeing the lip held tauntingly between her teeth.

“Bed,” she said in a low whisper. It was not a question.

***** TO BE CONTINUED *****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So close... though now maybe, just maybe...
> 
> I hope you've enjoyed their time with the Baker Street boys - I may revisit them in the future - I really enjoyed writing them.
> 
> Now, where to next? Everywhere?


	19. More Time with You

 

Yaz let the Doctor tug her forwards, floating along dream-like as they navigated the never-ending corridors of the TARDIS. Finding the right door at last, the timelord placed her pale hand against the wood and paused, turning to look at Yaz. Her expression was thoughtful, but she said nothing, continuing to gaze at the younger woman. 

Yaz thought she understood the dilemma. She could feel the emotions humming through her like an oncoming storm; there was excitement and desire, but fear and trepidation too. She swallowed, pushing the nagging thoughts aside, and squeezed the hand in hers. With only the slightest flicker, the Doctor’s face relaxed and she returned her attention to the door, pushing it open on silent hinges.

The room was bathed in a gentle light from the stars glowing above them, warm and welcoming after the long nights spent in the dusty inn. Yaz looked about her, savouring the strange familiarity of it all. She had only been here once before, but the cluttered surfaces and teetering stacks seemed to be an extension of the timelord herself. Pieces of her history scattered about for all to see, _except_ , Yaz thought, _how many people had seen this room_? She didn’t suppose Graham or Ryan even knew of its existence.

The invitation to enter was far more personal, for all about her were the memories and the remnants of things lost – people and places who were lost to the sands of time. Her eyes hovered over a purple jacket folded carefully on a sideboard, an old Nokia mobile phone plugged in to a wall, a TARDIS-blue journal gathering dust on a shelf. This was the Doctor laying herself bare, she realised, and the fragile admission of trust almost made her weep.

She gripped the hand in hers tightly, and in reply the timelord gave a light tug, leading her through the chaos and beyond. Yaz took in the solid, wooden bed as they approached – she remembered it looking bigger, but perhaps the neatly folded quilt made it look smaller. It looked strange, she thought, this calm orderliness in the eye of the storm. Had the Doctor made the bed? Had the TARDIS somehow prepared the room for them?

The Doctor stood beside her, watchful eyes taking in the slight frown that flickered across the younger woman’s face. She waited.

“You’ve made the bed,” Yaz whispered, her voice loud in the silence.

The Doctor squeezed her hand gently but said nothing.

“Right,” the young officer babbled on, “so before it was all messy and sheets everywhere, and now it’s been made and well, do you prefer it like that, or is it usually like it was before or –”. 

“Yaz,” the Doctor shuffled to face her, linking their free hands together so their arms formed a continuous loop.

“- because before the blankets and stuff were strewn all over the place, and I guess it just looks a bit odd now considering –”

The Doctor tilted her head slightly, catching Yaz’s darting eyes with her own steady stare, her smile a little sad. 

“We don’t have to do this.”

“But… don’t you want to?” Yaz’s dark brows converged in a look somewhere between confusion and disappointment. 

Letting her smile twitch upwards, the Doctor squeezed the hands in hers.

“Of course, but I’m not sure you do.”

“I…” Yaz trailed off, not knowing quite how to phrase it.

“It’s ok,” the Doctor said quietly.

“No!”

She wasn’t quite sure where the anger had come from, but Yaz felt frustrated, watching as everything slipped away before her. Taking a deep, calming breath, she stepped closer, the Doctor watching her carefully.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I just don’t know how to explain,” she shrugged her shoulders wearily, “Would you… can I show you?”

The timelord dipped her head slightly in acquiescence. 

Slowly, with their hands still linked, Yaz closed the gap between them and softly pressed her lips to the Doctor’s. After a brief moment of hesitation, the blonde woman sighed against her mouth and allowed herself to be kissed, tenderly and completely. Yaz poured herself into the moment - the tingle of desire, the restrained doubts, the fragility of emotions - into that single kiss. 

They stood together in the darkened room, only their lips and hands touching. Intimacy painted in starlight.

The kiss eventually melted away and they broke apart, resting their foreheads against one another.

“I’m all in, Doctor,” Yaz murmured against the warm lips centimetres from her own, “It just scares me sometimes, how I feel,” she brushed her lips briefly against the timelord’s, “how I feel about you.”

“And how do you feel?”

A nose nuzzled against hers gently.

“Excited… happy… tingling all over…”

Yaz nudged her nose back, tenderly. 

“…scared… worried that I’ll blink and miss it…”

She curled her fingers against the Doctor’s.

“… and completely mad, all the time.”

Tilting her head slightly, she kissed the timelord softly.

“Me too.” 

Drawing apart slightly, Yaz met the Doctor’s eyes, emotions glistening there and laid bare for her to see.

“This is new for me too, y’know?” the catch in the timelord’s voice made the younger woman’s heart ache. “There may be Roses and Rivers in my past, but there’s only one Yaz, and I was kinda hoping she might be in my future too.”

The Doctor leaned forward to press her lips to the tear that shone brightly against Yaz’s cheek.

“And I’m terrified that you don’t want this, that I’ll push you too far and you’ll run, but at the same time I can’t help myself. We hug, and I never want to let go. We kiss, and I am undone.”

She smiled, and her own eyes glittered with tears.

“And I want more of this, Yasmin Khan, because I am completely –”

And Yaz’s mouth was against hers, hot and sweet, tasting like salt and happiness. Her arms slid under the Doctor’s, clasping her shoulders and pulling her close, while the timelord’s slipped around her waist, hands resting against the small of her back.

They clung to each other, faces still damp with tears, kissing with wild abandon. Struggling to stay upright, Yaz felt them career sideways and gasped into the Doctor’s mouth when she felt the back of her knees collide with the bed.

She then fell to the floor with a thump as the Doctor’s arms and lips suddenly disappeared. Opening her eyes in some confusion she saw the timelord fling her coat to one side while she appeared to wrestle with something on the bed. Pulling herself up into a standing position, Yaz took in a panting but proud blonde and the heap of blankets that had once constituted a made bed.

“You seemed to like it messy,” the Doctor shrugged, with a smile.

Yaz felt something snap inside her. She had a vague awareness of slipping her leather jacket off and striding forwards, and then she was kissing the Doctor, pushing her back onto the tangled sheets. 

The timelord groaned into her mouth and Yaz swallowed eagerly, coaxing further sounds of pleasure as tangled her hands in messy blonde hair, raking her nails lightly against the Doctor’s scalp. She felt warm hands reach around her waist and slip under her shirt, fingertips tracing patterns against the skin of her lower back.

Reaching her own hands down, she slipped her fingers under the Doctor’s braces, and tugged. The timelord arched her back and threw her arms wide, allowing the younger woman to slide them down, all the while kissing her hungrily. As Yaz bit down gently on the Doctor’s lower lip, she pulled the navy shirt free and pushed her hands underneath, touching the soft skin there for the first time.

The timelord whimpered and trembled beneath her, mashing her mouth against Yaz’s, tongue sliding between parted lips to dance with hers. Heady with pleasure, the younger woman returned the kiss, as her fingers traced circles higher and higher up the Doctor’s abdomen.

“Take it… off,” the panted cry was barely audible above the sound of the pulse hammering in Yaz’s ear. 

She straddled the Doctor, and tugged at the double-layered material, urging her to sit up. On doing so, Yaz broke off the kiss just long enough to slide the shirt and under-shirt up and over the timelord’s head.

She held the Doctor’s gaze, pupils so dilated her eyes were black pools, reflecting only the starlight above them. She let her eyes wander, taking in the tousled blonde hair, the flushed cheeks, those swollen red lips. Then she allowed her eyes to dip slowly, taking in each curve, the pale skin, the dark glittering blue of a bra. She swallowed hard, barely breathing. 

Then there were hands at her waist, tugging at her own green top. She wriggled, allowing them to slip up, pulling the material over her head.

“You’re beautiful,” the Doctor breathed, mouth open as she gazed up at Yaz.

She had no idea how to respond, so she did the only thing she could and pushed the timelord back onto the mattress, kissing her soundly. They both moaned as their bodies pressed together, skin on skin, sending electricity thrumming through them.

Yaz’s hands were everywhere, slipping under and over smooth shoulders, fingers dancing across trembling skin as she traced circles around the Doctor’s navel. She could feel a swooping sensation in her stomach as the timelord’s hands travelled up and down her back, toying with the clasp of her bra as though they daren’t push their luck. 

Wanting more, she pressed one more bruising kiss to the Doctor’s mouth before beginning a slow, torturous trail along her jaw, down her neck, and between her collar bones. She placed hot, wet kisses down her sternum, one hand under her back and the other stroking lazily beneath the curve of her breast. Tentatively, she reached up to cup the soft swell, feeling the hard nub through the thin fabric rub against her palm.

“ _Yaaaazzzz_ ,”

The response was immediate, and the Doctor cried out, bucking against her and digging her fingers into the younger woman’s back. Encouraged, Yaz bent her head further, tongue darting out to taste the pale skin, tracing circles around the quivering skin of the Doctor’s navel.

The timelord didn’t know what to do with her hands, fisting them in Yaz’s hair and desperately clutching at her shoulders, vibrating with pleasure as the younger woman switched hands, cupping the other breast.

“ _Ohhhhhh_ ,” she groaned wordlessly, rocking her hips and arching her chest up and into a waiting palm.

Yaz grinned as an idea came to her. With her left-hand tracing patterns up and down the Doctor’s side, and the right trailing lazy circles around the soft curves of her chest, she began to slowly kiss her way back upwards.

“ _Yesss_ ,” the Doctor hissed, fingers tangled in her dark hair.

As Yaz hovered over the swell of her breast, she blew slowly out.

“Please!” the timelord cried out.

When she finally bent her head, feeling the hard tip against her lips through the material, the other pressed into her palm, the Doctor yelped.

“ _GAAHHH!”_

And when she took it gently between her teeth, hot and wet as she ran her tongue across the lace, the timelord shook beneath her, coming undone with a wordless cry. Yaz continued her slow caress, feeling the Doctor tremor uncontrollably, fingers digging painfully into her back, and the air filled with hot, broken moans. 

Gradually, the younger woman slowed her touches, raising her head and shifting her body so she could draw the timelord up against her, gasping for breath and twitching as she rode out the last waves of pleasure.

“I’ve got you,” Yaz murmured against her neck, pulling her closer still.

The Doctor mumbled something incoherent and panted warm air against her.

The younger woman grinned to herself, her own coiling heat momentarily forgotten as she drank in the sated timelord and a wave of happiness washed over her.

“Yaz,” the word was loud in the quiet room.

“I’m here.” 

But what the Doctor had been about to say, was cut off as a noise like a klaxon sounded and the room lit up suddenly in flashing orange lights.

 _MEEHHHHHH MEEHHHHH!_  

The Doctor leapt up, tumbling off the bed as her legs wobbled and gave way beneath her. 

“Doctor!” Yaz yelled, jumping up after her, “What the hell is that?” 

“Trouble!” the Doctor shouted back, half running, half stumbling for the door. 

***** TO BE CONTINUED *****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, things are heating up, don't you think?


	20. Oh, Captain, My Captain

“ _DOCTOR_!” Yaz shouted again, pausing to sweep up their scattered clothes from the bed, before running after her.

“Oh, come on!”

As she rounded a corner she caught sight of the Doctor bent over the TARDIS console, frantically mashing buttons and frowning at the lit-up display. She was also still topless, braces swinging loosely by her legs, dark-red marks beginning to bloom across her chest.

 _Ok_ , Yaz thought, swallowing, _now that is hot_.

“Can I help?” she said aloud, shaking herself and trying to focus.

“Pull the velocinominator and set the temporal-dynosplicer to sixteen.”

“Red lever and purple dial?”

“Someone’s been paying attention,” the Doctor shot her an approving grin before returning her attention to the smoking electronic panel.

Yaz smiled and yanked the red stick hard.

The next thing she knew, the ship tilted violently under them, flinging the pair sideways and plunging the room into darkness.

“Aghh,” Yaz heard the Doctor groan from somewhere to her left.

“Doctor?” she winced, rolling over and pulling herself up onto hands and knees.

“Yaz, you ok?”

“Yeah – ouch – I think so? You?”

“Bit sore, but what’s new?”

Yaz crawled painfully forwards, following the sound of the Doctor’s voice. When her hands bumped into something soft and warm, she heard the timelord squeak.

“Oh!”

“It’s me.” 

Patting her down to check for obvious injuries, Yaz’s hands skimmed up her arms and sides, pausing as they felt skin give way to lace.

“ _Oh_ …”

Despite the darkness, she thought she could see the flush of desire as it spread across the Doctor’s face. She could feel that coil of heat behind her navel burn up again, a desire to touch and be touched. Swallowing down her own response, she cleared her throat. 

“Still in one piece then?”

In reply she could hear the hitch in the Doctor’s breathing as a hand covered her own, tugging it gently upwards. Her mouth went dry as her fingers rested against the swell of warm skin, thrilling with the pounding heart beneath. She could a hand slipping slyly beneath her top and shivered as it traced her the curve of her hip bone.  

Her hand seemed to move of its own accord, a thumb reaching down beneath the lace to circle a pebbled tip. When she heard the low moan in the darkness, it reawakened a carnal ache, rising from deep inside her. She closed her eyes, biting hard on her lip as the timelord’s cool fingertips traced maddening shapes across her quivering abdomen. 

“Doctor,” she half-groaned, feeling her common sense slip away with every movement, “I thought you said there was trouble?”

“Mmmm, you’re in _trouble_ ,” the Doctor murmured in a low voice, her fingers skating across Yaz’s ribcage, “because when I get you – trouble?” She sat up suddenly and the younger woman ducked out of the way of another head-to-head collision. 

“Yeah, remember?” Yaz gulped, the tingling subsiding with each breath. 

“Galloping Gelth!” the Doctor swore, as she pulled herself up, reaching around for Yaz in the darkness. “Yes, of course!”

As she was hauled to her feet, Yaz could hear the Doctor muttering as she felt around them blindly. 

“Somewhere here… come on, where are you… aha!”

With a slight buzz dim orange lighting flickered on and they blinked together as the room came back into view. Then the Doctor whirred into action, rushing over to the console and prodding the screen.

“Broken again?” Yaz walked up beside the timelord, squinting at the scrolling display and fanning the remaining heat from her face.

“No…” the Doctor replied, frowning, “we’ve arrived.”

“Oh, I just assumed –”

“Nope – that bump was all you - _bit_ too enthusiastic with yer piloting,” the Doctor chuckled at her.

“In my defence, you never said how hard to pull that lever,” Yaz shot back, blushing a little.

“True. Remind me to give you a proper driving lesson some time.”

Yaz bit back a laugh as she pictured the Doctor hanging ‘L’ plates around her neck. “Sure,” she agreed, “Now are you gonna explain what’s going on?” 

“I don’t know,” the Doctor frowned, as she met Yaz’s eyes, “and I don’t like not knowing. All I can say for sure is that something has brought us here and it’s probably not good news.”

“And where is ‘here’, exactly?” 

“Cardiff.”

“Cardiff?” This was certainly not the answer Yaz had been expecting.

“Yeah, you know – 2014 European Capital of Sport, birthplace of Roald Dahl, huge rift in time and space?” the Doctor chattered as she headed for the TARDIS doors, patting herself down.

“Um, Doc?” Yaz grinned at her, holding out her shirts and coat, “You might want these before you head out.”

“Oh…” the Doctor flushed pink, sudden realisation dawning on her as she looked down at herself.

“Not that I’m complaining,” Yaz murmured in a low voice, “but you might have trouble hiding your sonic screwdriver in that get-up.”

“I’m sure we could find a way,” the Doctor winked, slipping her shirts on and pinging her braces into place. 

Before Yaz could respond, the timelord had pulled on her coat and taken her hand, tugging her out of the doors into the damp, Welsh air.

“Woah,” the younger woman breathed out, looking around them at the brightly lit Millennium Centre and the bay beyond, twinkling the reflected lights of boats and street-lamps.

“I know it’s not some far-off planet, but it’s not bad, eh?” the Doctor smiled, giving her hand a squeeze.

“It’s pretty beautiful,” Yaz nodded, taking it all in.

“Takes one to know one,” the Doctor added, leaning her head against her companion’s shoulder, feeling the blush that spread down the younger woman’s neck. They stood for a moment, looking out at the bay, a light mist dancing against their cheeks.

“Excuse me,” an American accent broke through the quiet moment.

The jumped apart, swivelling around to see a tall, handsome man with his hands shoved into the pockets of a navy, military greatcoat. He was eyeing them up curiously, foppish black hair slightly damp against his forehead.

“I’m looking for someone – I think he might just have arrived here?” he smiled, all white teeth and charm. “Tall, floppy hair, total dreamboat in a suit,” he winked at them, “though now I think about it, could also be medium height, crew cut, in a terrible leather jacket…”

Yaz frowned, “So you’re looking for two men?” 

“Or maybe he’s not looking for a man at all,” the Doctor flashed her an amused look, crossing her arms and turning to face him, “isn’t that right, Jack?” 

The man narrowed his eyes at her, “Doctor?”

“You called?” she grinned back and was nearly knocked off her feet as he ran forward to sweep her into a crushing hug.

Yaz stared as the dark-haired American swung the Doctor around, both of them laughing with joy. 

“Uh, I’m guessing you two know each other then?” 

“Oh, we go way back,” the timelord chuckled.

“To the end of the world and back,” he smiled fondly down at the blonde, finally putting her back down on the ground, “though she looked a little different back then.” 

“What d’ya think?” the Doctor twirled around, mussing up her hair. 

“Hot,” the man said without hesitation, “loving the braces, though man, did you look good in a suit.”

“Still does,” Yaz blurted out, cupping a hand over her mouth when she realised she’d said the words out loud.

“And who’s this pretty young thing?” the American flashed Yaz a smile. “She the one responsible for that really quite impressive hickey?”

“Officer Yasmin Khan,” Yaz stuck out her hand, blushing as the Doctor brought a hand up to cover her neck, “but you can call me Yaz.”

“Captain Jack Harkness,” he took her hand warmly, winking at her “and you can call me any time.”

“You haven’t changed,” the Doctor grinned at him. 

“No, but you have,” Jack’s brow furrowed slightly, “What happened?”

“Long story, but I’ve had quite a few incarnations since I last saw you. Speaking of which,” she paused, “… when did I last see you?”

“It’s been a few months. How can you forget? A year is a long time to spend being tortured by the Mast-”

“- yeah, I remember,” the Doctor interrupted him, a dark shadow crossing her face.

Yaz quietly slipped a hand into hers.

“So,” the young officer broke the silence, “from what the Doctor tells me, you’ve set up some sort of operation here to monitor alien activity?”

Tearing his face away from the Doctor’s, Jack raised his eyebrows, “Yeah, that’s us. Torchwood Three. I see someone’s been gossiping about me?”

“Oh, get over yourself,” the timelord’s lips quirked up into a smile, the grief fading just as quickly as it had arrived, “Yaz just wanted to know a bit about my past.”

“I bet she did,” Jack winked lasciviously, “all your ins and outs?”

“You’re terrible,” the Doctor rolled her eyes and Yaz coughed to hide her face.

“That’s not what Ianto says,” the captain laughed, “come on, let’s go meet the team.”

“Fine,” the timelord agreed. “Hang on though,” she frowned again, “you said you saw me a few months ago? What year is it?”

“2006, of course - now pick up the pace, slowpokes,” he shouted back to them as he walked towards the Water Tower.

“That’s not good,” the Doctor frowned, muttering under her breath, “not good at all.” 

“What’s wrong with 2006?” Yaz was confused. 

“Whatever is happening here, it’s pulled us out of space _and time_.” 

“And that’s bad?”

“Very bad,” the Doctor whispered, as they followed Jack.

***** TO BE CONTINUED *****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this? Torchwood? And what have the Doctor and Yaz stumbled on? 
> 
> More importantly, will Yaz ever find out where the Doctor would hide her sonic?


	21. Welcome to Torchwood

“Doctor, Yaz, meet the team!” Jack waved his hands expansively at the small group gathered in the Hub as the three of them stepped off the lift.

“Hi, I’m Gwen, Officer Gwen Cooper if you like,” a dark-haired woman said in a lilting Welsh accent. She held out a hand to them both, “So good to meet you – Jack’s been yammering on about you for months, Doctor.”

“Dr Owen Harper,” a skinny dark-haired man offered his hand, eyeing the Doctor curiously, “Thought you was a man though?” 

Turning to Yaz, he flashed a cheeky wink, “What’s your name again, gorgeous?” 

“Officer Yasmin Khan,” she shook his hand firmly, “Yaz to my friends, but I get to decide who those are.” 

“Ooh,” Gwen laughed, clapping her hands, “she’s got her head screwed on alright.” She flashed a grin at Yaz, “Don’t worry about him, harmless really, he is.”

“Ignore them both,” the bespectacled Japanese woman came forward smiling and offered a warm hand, “Toshiko Sato - Tosh – lovely to meet you by the way.”

“And this,” Jack grinned, pushing forwards a slightly serious, suited young man, “is Ianto Jones.”

“I make the coffee,” he spoke in a soft local accent.

“And it’s the best coffee you’ll ever have,” Jack beamed, throwing an arm around Ianto’s stiff shoulders.

“I’m pretty handy with a stopwatch too,” Ianto said, deadpan, and Jack chuckled, reddening slightly.

“Right, well, like Jack said, I’m the Doctor and this is Yaz,” the timelord smiled round at the gang, “And yeah, I’m a woman, problem?” she looked at Owen with raised eyebrows. 

“Nope, no complaints here,” he smirked, earning himself a smack on the arm from Gwen. 

It was at that moment that something large and winged swooped down on them with a screech. Recalling the creatures that they had encountered on a distant planet only a week earlier, Yaz yelped in shock and threw herself at the Doctor, knocking them both to the ground. 

The rest of the Torchwood gang fell about laughing.

“Don’t worry about Myfanwy,” Tosh chuckled, “she’s actually pretty harmless.”

“Unless you get between her and the barbeque sauce,” Owen smirked, offering them a hand up.

“Hang on,” Yaz narrowed her eyes at the creature soaring overhead, “are you telling me you keep a dinosaur in your base?”

“Consider her a mascot,” Jack grinned at the pair of them. “Welcome to Torchwood, you two!”

* * *

“So, that’s as far as we’ve got,” Gwen said, spreading out the last photo for the group to see.

Once they had settled down around the large table in the office, it had taken only twenty minutes or so for the team to showcase their evidence from their current case. A handful of gruesome crime-scene shots and a few paltry witness-statements. All of this was lain out before them, dead faces shining under the strip-lighting.  Yaz leaned in to peer at the final photograph, holding it up to compare with another in her hand. 

“So that’s –”

“Nine murders in five days, yeah,” Owen murmured, grimly.

“And you’ve no idea what links them?” Yaz put the photos down looking sickened, “Other than the fact that they seem to have all drowned?”

“No, but we do know there’s alien involvement,” Tosh interjected, fingers flitting across her keyboard to bring up several more images. “This man,” she gestured at the digital rendering of a victim, his face blue and bloated, “looks pretty normal, until you look at the body in low light with an oxygen mist.” 

She mapped an image over the top and those around the table drew in a collective breath. The man now glowed bright blue, most noticeably around the mouth and across the top of his head and shoulders.

“The same sort of thing happens with the others,” Tosh continued, bringing up more images. A woman and her child, the front of their clothes splashed in a glowing radioactive green; a teenager, his hands and face shining bright purple.

“What the hell is that?” Gwen gasped, staring disbelievingly up at the digital images.

“It’s bioluminescence,” the Doctor breathed quietly.

“What?”

“Tiny creatures, bacteria, living in the water. Then oxygen, carbon, dash of enzymes, and suddenly – poof!” she gestured expansively with her hands, “Glowing water!”

“Not bad,” Tosh agreed, nodding her approval at the Doctor. 

Yaz bumped her shoulder against the timelord’s, smiling at the adorable expression that lit up the Doctor’s face. 

“Great, so tiny bacteria are murdering people now, are they?” Owen interrupted, not impressed.

“That’s not what she’s saying,” Yaz shot back, defensive. 

“Exactly,” Tosh seconded, “but what it does do is prove a theory.”

“And what’s that?” Gwen asked.

“That the water they appeared to have drowned in is seawater,” the scientist pushed her glasses up her nose and looked around at the group expectantly. 

“Of course!” the Doctor slammed a hand down on the table, making them all jump. “I should have seen that coming!” 

“Well any time you fancy _gracing_ us mere mortals with an explanation…” Owen quipped grumpily.

“Oh, shut it,” Yaz and Gwen chorused together.

“ _LUCIFERINS_!”

She looked around at four blank faces and Tosh. 

“Doc, there’s a time and a place for Harry Potter,” Yaz muttered surreptitiously to her. 

Ignoring her, the timelord explained, “It’s the class of enzyme that catalyses the light reaction in the bacteria – usually only found in bodies of salt water.”

“So,” Jack broke his silence, sitting forward to join the conversation, “You’re saying that these people all drowned in saltwater?”

Tosh and the Doctor looked at each other for a moment, then back at Jack. 

“Yes,” they said simply.

“But this man died in his back garden,” Gwen tapped the photos, staring at them both, “and this woman and her daughter were in the woods. Tad far from the sea, don’t you think?” 

“Mmm,” the Doctor hummed to herself, running a distracted hand through her hair, “I’m still working on that bit.”

They stared glumly down at the photos, wracking their brains.

“Oh!” Yaz sat up suddenly, making them all jump in surprise.

“What is it?” Jack leant forward, listening.

“Don’t you see, it’s not _where_ they died, but what they were doing _when_ they died?” Yaz gabbled quickly, pulling one of the marker pens over and scribbling furiously on the post-it notes. “This man was watering his garden, while the kid here was cleaning his face ready for a date, and these two,” she pointed at the bloated corpses of mother and child, “were out looking for tadpoles in a stream.”

She glanced at the Doctor for confirmation and saw a look of comprehension and pride spread across her face.

“Yaz, you are BRILLIANT! I could kiss you!”

“Why are the pretty ones always gay?” Owen quipped when Yaz blushed pink.

“And why are the smart ones always morons?” Gwen shot back, clipping him lightly around the ear.

“You two, quiet,” Jack pointed at his colleagues, before returning his attention to Yaz, “go on. 

“It’s the water – they all died in or near water. I don’t know how or why, but the sea water, or at least particles of it, is mixing in with fresh water sources. That’s how the particles are getting into them.”

“Ok,” Jack nodded, serious again, “So we’ve got seawater that can move and also kill. Well at least it’s a start.”

He sat back in his chair, contemplating.

“Look, I’m not being funny,” Gwen interrupted, “but we’ve been at this for a while, maybe we need a break.” She glanced at her watch, “Shit, it’s nearly seven and I promised Rhys I’d be home for tea.”

“That’s right run off to lover-boy,” Owen rolled his eyes, but Yaz saw him glance wistfully in the officer’s direction. 

“Good idea,” Jack stood up, his braces pulling tight across his shoulders as he stretched, “I think we should sleep on it.”

“Do you two need a bed for the night?” Gwen turned to the Doctor and Yaz, “Only it’s not much but I do have a sofa bed I can set-up if you fancy?” 

“Sounds delightful, thanks,” the Doctor grinned back.

“Yeah, brill, cheers,” Yaz agreed.

“It’s a bit cosy, mind, but I’m sure you two are used to snuggling up,” Gwen added, holding the office door open for them.

“Oh, we’re not –”

“We, um –” 

“Denial, not just a river in Egypt, huh?” Jack grinned at them, and the team sniggered as the pair followed Gwen out of the door, colour rising in their cheeks.

* * *

“Oi, scooch over?”

Yaz shifted along as far as she could on the tiny sofa-bed, feeling the cushions dip slightly as the Doctor slipped in beside her. Her eyes had become accustomed to the semi-darkness of the room, and she grinned as the timelord patted about her, still blinded by the bright lights of the bathroom. Sighing, she felt a warm weight settle in against her side, trying to wrap around her with –

“Bloody hell your feet are cold!” Yaz squeaked, trying to shove the virtual blocks of ice away from her.

“Warm me up then?” the Doctor whispered into her ear, trying to wriggle her foot between Yaz’s warm shins.

“Gerroff!” Yaz giggled, trying to muffle her laughter with the duvet. 

The more she struggled, the more the Doctor clung limpet-like to her. Eventually, she gave up, the timelord firmly insinuated around her, and settled for a playful jab in the ribs.

“If I get frostbite, I’m blaming you,” the younger woman huffed.

“How about a frost-less bite?” the Doctor’s eyes glinted in the reflected streetlight, and she made a mock lunge for Yaz’s neck.

Sniggering, Yaz ducked out of the way, grabbing the Doctor’s hands and pinning them against her pillow. 

“Back, foul beast!” she whisper-shouted, grinning as she shook a fist triumphantly in the air, half-straddling the blonde.

Blowing the hair out of her eyes, the Doctor smiled wickedly up at Yaz, “Oh yeah?”.

And with surprising coordination, she locked a knee between hers and rolled, flipping their positions. Yaz huffed in surprise as she found herself flat on her back, the Doctor pinning her hands to her sides and grinning mischievously down at her. 

“Pretty maiden, you vill succumb to my curse, ah ah ah!” the Doctor feigned a terrible Eastern European accent, as she bent down to the younger woman’s neck again.

 With a snort of laughter, Yaz pulled the Doctor forward and off balance, rolling away and clambering quickly up to sit on the back of her legs. Locking the timelord’s arms gently up behind her back, Yaz leant down to whisper into her ear.

“I’m _maiden in Sheffield_ , Doc – pure steel and don’t you forget it.”

“M’ok,” the Doctor mumbled into the pillow, “I s’rrender”.

Grinning, Yaz relaxed her grip on the arms, resting back on her knees and laurels.

“FOOL!” 

The shout of glee came too late, and Yaz was once again flat on her back, staring at the orange flickers of passing headlamps as they lit the ceiling. She had no idea how it had happened, but the Doctor was sitting astride her hips, putting the finishing touches to a cord that now bound her hands together. 

“ _What_? How did you- ” 

“Oh, Officer Khan,” the Doctor smirked down at her, “you may be top of your class in self-defence, but I,” she winked, pulling the cord tighter, “trained with Houdini.”  

“Is that right? Well I just happen to – ” Yaz muttered, trying to distract the Doctor while she tried unsuccessfully to free her hands, “ – seriously, what kind of knot is this and where did you get the rope from?”

The Doctor stuck her thumbs through the empty belt-loops of her dressing-gown, “… and as for the knot, it’s a Greek classic. Nice guy, Gordias.”

“I see,” Yaz sighed, dropping her bound wrists and rolling her eyes at the timelord, “so are you planning to untie me any time soon?” 

“Well, I could,” the Doctor leant down, breath tickling her ear, “but where’s the fun in that?”

Yaz shivered deliciously, feeling the tingle as a nose brushed against the tip of her ear, tracing the curve around.

“Oh,” she moaned in surprise as teeth closed gently on her dark earlobe.

This was new. Her breathing hitched as the Doctor tugged gently at the soft skin, and she lent her head to one side, granting her better access. Releasing the lobe, the timelord pressed her mouth close to Yaz’s ear again, whispering with hot breaths. 

“…and you are definitely overdue some fun.”

***** TO BE CONTINUED *****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yaztime!
> 
> So how's Torchwood for everyone? Bringing back memories?


	22. Bound

Yaz drew in a sharp breath as the Doctor bit down on her earlobe again and huffed warm air against her neck. Simultaneously, warm hands smoothed over her shoulders, running down her arms, down to her sides, and lower. With a shiver of anticipation, she felt the timelord’s thumbs slip beneath her pyjama top, running lightly over her hip bone. The hot, coiling sensation behind her navel had returned and her breath hitched as those same hands gradually began to inch upwards, pushing her top aside.

She arched her back, allowing the Doctor to slide the material upwards, exposing the curve of her ribs but stopping just below the soft swells of her chest. The timelord grinned against Yaz’s skin, as her thumbs rubbed the exposed skin, tracing the dip and camber of her diaphragm, but not venturing further up.

The younger woman groaned, hooking her bound wrists around the Doctor’s neck and pulling her closer. Acknowledging this, the blonde released Yaz’s tingling earlobe, dipping her head to the pulse point below her jaw and nibbling lightly at the skin there.

“ _Mmmhhmmm_ ,” Yaz moaned, lost in sensation.

Raising an eyebrow, the Doctor moved her mouth lower, sucking hard at an area just above her collar bone.

Yaz cried out, and the blonde quickly replaced lips with tongue, soothing the patch of hot skin. She moved down further and repeating her movements – sucking and licking – leaving a trail of darkening bruises. As Yaz whimpered into the twilight, the Doctor breathed in her warm skin and placed soft kisses against the marks that she had put there, branding the younger woman hers.

“ _Doctor…_ ”

The timelord swallowed her own groan at the breathy desperation of Yaz’s plea. Needing to move, she bent her head and slipped the bound wrists from her neck, pushing them up and over the brunette’s head. 

As Yaz lifted her head to tuck her hands behind, she caught the twin reflections of the Doctor’s eyes, watching her. It was too dim to make anything out properly, but she could see from the flash of white against darker skin that the timelord was grinning down at her, biting her lip.

“Please…” she begged, stomach swooping in anticipation. 

The Doctor kept her eyes on Yaz’s face, watching the shadows caress her soft features in the low-light.

“You sure?” came her breathy whisper. 

Yaz nodded and swallowed hard.

The Doctor ran a hand over the younger woman’s bent arm, fingering the loose end of the dressing-gown cord, hesitantly.

“We don’t have to-”

Understanding, and despite her pressing need, Yaz felt emotion well up inside of her.

“Doctor,” her voice was soft but ragged, “It’s ok – now _please_ …” 

After a pause, she felt the timelord at last shift her weight and bend down.

Closing her eyes, Yaz panted, open-mouthed, as the Doctor inched the pyjama top upwards.  She shivered as the cooler air danced across her exposed skin, dusky nipples stiffening and throbbing in anticipation. 

She groaned deeply as fingers skated spirals around each soft breast, the circles becoming smaller, closing in slowly.

She whimpered quietly as the Doctor pressed kisses to her bellybutton, tongue tracing a line of fire upwards, past her ribs and across soft, waiting swells. 

She moaned wantonly when she felt a mouth hover over her, so close she could feel the heat of the timelord’s lips, breath ghosting over her quivering skin.

“ _HHNNGGGGHH_!” she cried out as the Doctor’s mouth closed around one taut peak.

A hand clamped over her mouth and she looked down to see the timelord draw back slightly, a finger to her own mouth.

“ _Ssssshhhhhhh_ …”

Yaz shivered and nodded. As she saw the Doctor remove her hand and bend once again to her aching breast, she felt her breath hitch. Throwing her head back, she stared at the ceiling, trying to control her breathing. When soft lips closed around her and sucked her into a wet, hot oblivion, she bit her lip hard in an effort not to scream.

Screwing her eyes up against the jolts of pleasure, she became aware of every sensation. The warm hands against her sides, thumbs grazing her skin, holding her in place while the Doctor concentrated her attention on the nipple in her mouth. 

She quivered, toes curling and hips rolling, when a tongue swirled around the stiff, dark tip. Yaz had never known anything like this, a pleasure so sharp and aching it was almost painful. She was putty in the Doctor’s hands, arching her back and thrusting herself upwards, not knowing what else to do. Needing and reaching for something only the woman atop her could give.

When the Doctor drew away, releasing the throbbing nub with a huff of warm air, Yaz wanted to cry out. But when she felt her move to the other, neglected breast, and dart a wet tongue out to lap at the pebbled skin, it was all she could do to not cry out. She bit down on her lip, hard.

“ _Doctorrrr_ … _please…_ ” the strangled whisper was loud in the quiet darkness.

She felt, rather than heard, the low growl of agreement, and a hand came up to cover the other breast. The wet tip had cooled in the room air, and the Doctor rolled it gently between finger and thumb, Yaz gasped and bucked her hips up against the timelord’s.

The double assault was proving too much to handle, and she could feel the damp heat within coiling tighter and tighter. She could barely breathe, her body writhing, unable to keep still. Hands clenched into fists, eyes tightly shut, her chest alight with sensation – hot and cold, wet and burning.

Yaz was aware of climbing, rising up and up through layers of hot, pulsing pleasure, being guided on by hands and tongue and mouth. She was on the precipice of something she could not comprehend yet desperately wanted, her whole being vibrating with need and want.

“ _Gaahhhhhhh…_ ” 

She bit back the moan, as once again, the Doctor’s mouth closed around her, sucking hard on an aching bud.

When Yaz felt her bite gently down, teeth grazing the overly-sensitised skin, she could take no more.

Mouth open, she gasped wordlessly, as waves of pleasure hit her over and over. Her whole body trembled and bucked uncontrollably, undulating wildly against the hand and mouth that still held her there, pushing her further on even as she fell apart.

She couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe, could only feel. She felt dizzy, rising and plunging over the crests of thrumming desire, shot through with spikes of sensation as the Doctor continued to ravage her. A molten heat coursed through her blood and she burned with it. 

It was too much, too exquisite – she felt as though she was shattering beneath the timelord’s touch.

 _“Doc-tor_ ,” her voice was ragged, raw with ecstasy.

And then the world began to slow again, and she floated back to Earth, weightless and sated. As she took in deep breaths of cooling air, she felt the Doctor shift, tugging her top back into place and reaching up to tug at the cord around her wrists. Yaz lay there, watching the timelord, still shivering with aftershocks. 

The Doctor pulled the cord loose, freeing her hands, but she hadn’t the energy to move – her limbs felt leaden and it was all she could do to keep breathing.

“Yaz,” the timelord’s voice was soft and low, “you ok?”

“Yeah,” she breathed, still in shock. 

“Was that…” the half-question lingered, sweet and shy.

“Brilliant,” Yaz exhaled happily.

She felt the Doctor sigh and place a gentle kiss against her damp forehead. The younger woman nuzzled her cheek in return and let the timelord pull her close again, wrapping the duvet tightly around them.

As they lay curled together on the small sofa-bed, a thought broke through Yaz’s exhaustion.

“Doctor,” she whispered, “what is this?”

The timelord shifted onto her side, meeting the younger woman’s dark eyes. 

“I don’t know,” her voice was serious but soft.

“Me neither,” Yaz replied, a small smile tugging at her lips, “but I kinda like where it’s going?” 

“Ditto,” the Doctor breathed out a sigh of relief, and hugged the younger woman close.

“Will it always be like this?”

The timelord looked at her then in the low light, tired but happy, young but thoughtful, staring back at her with love and adoration in every line of her face. She hadn’t seen the true darkness of the universe yet, hadn’t known grief and despair, and yet here she was, wanting to follow her, to be with her, wanting her.

“I –”

The response was cut short as they jumped when a loud creak split the silence.

Peeking up from their pillows, they watched in some surprise as a naked man stumbled across the room. After some fumbling and swearing, he pushed open the door to the bathroom and switched on the light. Hearing the tell-tale splashes through the ajar door, they ducked back under the covers, sniggering. After a few minutes, he finished and sloped back to the bedroom, completely unaware of the two giggling guests in his living-room.

“Well that was –” 

“- comic bladder relief?” the Doctor finished Yaz’s sentence, and the two of them fell about, muffling their laughter in the pillows.

“Thank you,” Yaz muttered softly, as the mirth subsided into peaceful quiet once more.

“What for?” the Doctor smiled, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind the brunette’s ear. 

Yaz felt herself blush, which was ridiculous given how the night had panned out.

“For all of this,” she smiled back, and curling once more into the Doctor’s warm arms, “for _that_ ,” she pressed her chest against the timelord’s, with a residual shiver, “and for just being you.”

“Yasmin Khan,” the Doctor pressed a soft, slow kiss to her mouth, “I do not deserve you.”

Yaz murmured her agreement, smiling against the warm lips and returning the kiss, heat rising in her once again, their hands fumbling for the tingling skin that lay just beneath cotton pyjama tops.

As they fell together again, kicking off the thick duvet, they missed it. 

They missed the strange light emitting from the empty bathroom, as the toilet bowl pulsed with an eerie, neon-blue glow.

***** TO BE CONTINUED *****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pffft, and you thought I wouldn't give you Yaztime?


	23. Water Way to Go

Yaz awoke slowly, rising up from a warm, happy slumber, the comforting weight of an arm lying across her belly. She could feel warm air against her neck as the Doctor slept on, and she grinned to herself, basking in the happiness that came from waking up in the timelord’s arms.

She opened her eyes blearily, blinking into the morning light, and jumped.

“Woah!” 

“Bit hot last night, was it?” Gwen Cooper was sat on the arm of the sofa, munching on a piece of toast and smirking down at the pair of them.

“You scared me!” Yaz whispered, trying not to wake the sleeping blonde, “And what d’you mean?”

“Sorry,” Gwen shrugged, settling back on her perch, “Rhys has been varnishing all the chairs, and I’d normally have breakfast on the sofa, but…” she gestured at the temporary bed. “Oh, and I’m just assuming you were too warm because you didn’t seem to need this?” she kicked at the crumpled heap of duvet on the floor a few metres away. 

Yaz could feel herself blushing. 

“Yeah, we, uh – it was a bit toasty with two of us?” 

“Funny,” Gwen raised an eyebrow and dusting crumbs off her dressing-gown, “only I’m bloody freezing in here.”

It was at that moment that the Doctor stretched sleepily and nestled further into the embrace.

“ _Mmm_ … _Yaztime_ …” 

Gwen laughed heartily and Yaz, now scarlet, pinched the timelord’s arm hard.

“Wassat for?” the muffled reply tickled her neck.

Blinking against the light, the Doctor’s scronched up her face as she rose from her pillow, fixing on Yaz.

“Someone’s a bit pink,” her expression split into a hazy smile, “having flashbacks, are we?” 

“ _Doctor_!”

The timelord frowned and looked up, catching sight of Gwen chuckling, hand over her mouth.

“Oh,” her mouth fell open and she gulped like a fish out of water, “I mean, you must be remembering that time we went to that really hot place. You know, with all the sand and sunburn and –”

“Sure,” Gwen smiled knowingly, disbelief stamped across her features, “well, there’s tea, toast, and cereal if you want it. I told Jack we’d be in soon. And the shower’s free if you need it,” she stood up, casting them one last smirk, “though I don’t think those hickeys are scrubbing off any time soon?”

Yaz groaned, burying her face in her pillow.

* * *

 

“Good morning all,” Jack grinned as they settled around the circular table, cups of steaming coffee in hand.

The team returned his greeting with varying enthusiasm.

“I hope you all slept well, because we’ve got our hands pretty full today.”

“Solid seven hours and raring to go,” the Doctor replied cheerfully.

“Oh yeah?” Owen’s lips quirked into a wicked smile, “Must have been a pretty lousy sofa judging by those shiners on your pal’s neck?”

The Doctor flushed pink and Yaz shot him a filthy look. 

“Well…” she started

“Gwen thought you must have spent a while trying to get comfortable,” Tosh added, fighting back a smile.

“Yes,” Ianto chipped in, sipping his drink with a straight face, “she did mention there were a few noises emanating from the front room.”

Yaz didn’t know where to look, but the Doctor fixed pleading eyes on Jack.

“Oh, don’t look to me for help,” he chuckled, “you wanna get down and dirty on Gwen’s sofa-bed, that’s fine –” 

“Hot, is the word I’d use,” Owen added with a wink.

“Correct,” Jack smirked, “but you’d better believe we’re gonna be dining out on this one for quite some time.”

“I believe it’s called ‘just desserts’,” Gwen giggled, unable to keep a straight face any longer, “and you’ve already eaten.” 

As the team fell about, snorting helplessly into their drinks, Yaz closed her eyes, willing the ground to open up and swallow her whole, while the Doctor just opened and closed her mouth, for once completely lost for words. They were both scarlet, the colour showing up brightest against the timelord’s paler complexion.

“Yeah, well, I really like dessert,” the Doctor eventually managed to mumble.

“Sure you do!” Jack spluttered, and they collapsed into laughter again.

“Doctor, that’s not – they didn’t mean –” Yaz muttered, sunk so low in her chair she was on the verge of slipping off it completely.

“What did I say?” she was an adorable mixture of confusion and embarrassment, “Was it the desserts? Cos I love a sundae, me – ice-cream, whipped cream, cherries…” 

“ _Please_ – no more!” Owen was thumping the table and wiping tears of laughter from his eyes, holding onto Gwen for support.

“Please, Doctor, just stop talking,” Yaz begged in strangled tones, wanting to clamp a hand across her mouth, but thinking better of it given the circumstances.

“God, I’ve missed you!” Jack leant back, wiping a hand across his face and trying to compose himself. Taking a deep breath, he sat forward again, and rifled through a pile of papers, “Right, we’d better crack on.”

Yaz eased herself back into her seat, still not trusting herself to look at anyone, but feeling for the Doctor’s hand beneath the table and giving it a squeeze. She breathed out slowly, feeling the calm from that simple touch radiate through her, easing the tension she felt. The timelord laced their fingers together and squeezed back.

“You ok?” she murmured, voice low enough that only Yaz could hear it. 

“I’ve been better,” the young officer muttered from the side of her mouth, “but thank-you.” She gave the hand another squeeze before releasing it and crossing her arms, meeting Jack’s eyes.

“Ok, so what’s the plan, Captain?”

“Yeah, the plan – right, team,” he cleared his throat, and the others sat up a little straighter, “we’ve got to find and take out whatever this thing is that’s taking over Cardiff’s water supply.”

The smiles slid from their faces and the room became quiet and serious. 

“Way I see it,” Jack held their attention as he began to lay out his plan, “there’s a couple of angles we need to focus on. Firstly – we need to take samples from the victims and analyse anything we can lay our hands on.”

“Sounds like a job for me,” Tosh raised her hand, smiling around, “I’ve been thinking about a few programmes we could run on the water samples.”

“And I suppose you want me to cast my medical eye over the bodies?” Owen sighed melodramatically.

“Perfect, if you wouldn’t mind,” Jack nodded his approval, before continuing. “Secondly, we’re gonna need to interview anyone who saw anything suspicious – friends, partners etc. We need to know if there’s any deeper link between the victims. Gwen, Yaz – would you mind?”

“Course,” Gwen nodded and Yaz added “Sure, might as well put our training to good use.”

“Great. So that leaves you and me, Doctor?” 

The timelord grinned back, “It’ll be just like old times.”

“Can’t wait,” Jack winked, “and boy, do I have a treat lined up for us.”

“Oh yeah?” Owen raised an eyebrow, “So we get bodies and samples and you two swanning off for a boat-trip or something?”

“Not quite,” the Captain threw back the rest of his coffee, “more like a trip to the water treatment plant.”

“You’re taking me on a trip to the sewers?” the Doctor scrunched up her face in dismay, causing the others much amusement.

“Oh, Doc, come on,” Jack smirked, gathering up the paperwork as they all rose up to leave, “it’ll be a blast. Didn’t think you had a problem getting down and dirty?”

Amidst peals of fresh laughter, the Doctor flashed Yaz an apologetic face as they split off into their respective pairs.

* * *

 

“So,” Gwen said, checking her rear-view mirror, “go on then, what’s the deal, you and her?”

“Uh…” Yaz didn’t know how to respond, the question blindsiding her, “well we’re friends – I travel with her and with Graham and Ryan, we’re a sort of team – fam?” 

Gwen raised an eyebrow, “And where are these other blokes then? Been hiding them in your suitcases?”

“No, we – uh – left them back in Sheffield… in 2018?” Yaz didn’t know what made her say that, but she felt she could trust Gwen.

“I see – so you’re time-travellers then?" 

“Kinda?” Yaz rubbed her neck, wondering if she’d said the right thing. “Did Jack never mention anything?”

Gwen shrugged, sighing “That man is an enigma at the best of times. But I figured there was something odd about the pair of you – time travel makes as much sense as anything round here, to be honest with you. I used to think the police was bad, but Torchwood - the things I’ve seen…”

“Yeah, I know what you mean…” Yaz thought of giant dinosaurs and spiders, of Rosa Parks, of the Doctor’s eyes glittering with starlight as she faced off against the Stenza atop a fifty-foot crane…

“So,” Gwen interrupted her thought-train, “why aren’t the boys with you?”

“I dunno really,” Yaz frowned, watching the houses and cars zipped past, “We dropped them off for a night and…”

“Go on,” Gwen was intrigued.

“Well, I got the Doc a sofa, then she injured me with some Christmas lights, but once she’d fixed me up she tried to show me how to pilot the TARDIS and we crashed so –”

Gwen shot a sideways glance at her new friend, smiling at the sudden burst of animation as she spun the story of her adventures with this mysterious Doctor. 

“ – and then after we left Sherlock and John we, uh, well we somehow ended up here? It’s all kinda snowballed, to be honest…” Yaz finished feeling a little exhausted. 

“Why do I get the feeling you’re leaving out some of the juicy bits?” Gwen smirked, punching her lightly on the arm.

“I don’t know what –” 

“Oh, leave it off,” the older woman rolled her eyes, “So what are you – lovers? Girlfriends? Space-wives?” 

Yaz stared out of the window, her face once again pink and hot.

“Oh, please tell me you’ve talked about it.”

The younger woman stayed silent.

“Seriously? You just follow her around like that, all puppy-dog eyes and love-bites on your neck and you’ve never even talked about it?” Gwen said in amazement.

Yaz set her jaw, willing away the tears that stung her eyes.

“Because I’ve seen the way she looks at you.” 

“What?” she turned to stare at Gwen.

“You must have seen it?” the officer shook her head at Yaz’s slight frown. “She watches you and it’s like there’s no-one else in the room. Sometimes she looks sorta sad, but then she softens… and then there’s the eye-fucking –” she shot the younger woman a wicked grin, “just saying, if Owe- I mean, Rhys, sent me looks like those, you wouldn’t see me for days.”

Yaz blinked repeatedly, trying to process.

“Hang on – you and Owen?” she finally managed.

“It’s complicated,” Gwen replied slowly, a strange look clouding her features.

“Yeah…” Yaz agreed, lost in thought again.

She was saved further contemplation by lurch of the car slowing to a halt, heralding their arrival at the first destination on their list, the docks.

“Right,” Gwen was all business again, zipping her jacket up against the rain and locking the car with a button-press, “let’s go and find Barry’s fishermen friends, see what they can tell us.” She flashed a grin across at Yaz, who was walking in step with her, “but don’t think I’m finished with you yet.” 

The younger woman huffed a half-serious sigh of exasperation, following Gwen into the small warehouse.

* * *

 

“Thanks, that’s really helpful,” Yaz nodded, putting her notebook away and shaking the hand of the gruff, bearded man.

“Cheers boys,” Gwen echoed, waving them off.

Leaning back against the wooden bench, she sighed heavily.

“Well that was bloody pointless,” she muttered as soon as the men were out of earshot. 

“And they said policework was exciting,” Yaz caught her colleague’s eye and they grinned.

Gwen laughed, “Honestly, three of them in the boat with him and not one of them noticed anything was off until they docked and found him dead in the toilet.”

“Some friends, hey?” Yaz smiled sadly.

“Give me Owen and Tosh arguing any day of the week,” Gwen nodded, grimly, the smile fading from her face.

“Excuse me.” 

They both looked around in surprise to see a scrawny, young man walking over to them, a cloth-wrapped bundle in his arms.

“Officers Cooper and Khan,” Gwen held out her badge, “how can we help?”

“Danny Willis, and it’s me that thought as I could help you, like,” he sounded nervous.

“Oh, ok,” Yaz encouraged him gently, “what have you got for us?”

“Well, I was cleaning up Barry’s boat, you see, after he… well, after the boys came back - and I found this. Kinda weird looking, it is. Anways, I dunno if it’ll help you much, but I liked Barry and… well, if it helps you with your investigations in any way…” he trailed off forlornly, holding the bundle out to them.

“Thanks, Danny,” Yaz smiled at him, “that’s really kind of you.”

As she pulled at the cloth, she caught a whiff of something strange, a coppery, boggy scent. Unwrapping the object, she held it out to Gwen, frowning.

“Well this is an odd thing to find on a boat, I’ll grant you that.”

Gwen stared at the cold, metal gauntlet that rested in Yaz’s hands. Dark memories rose up within her and she took an involuntary step back, her heart racing.

“ _Fuck_ ,” she swore violently, “ _no way_ …” and then louder, panicked, “Yaz, drop it and get the fuck away! NOW!”

***** TO BE CONTINUED *****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot thickening - yes. Serious talk with Gwen - yes. Merciless teasing - very much yes.
> 
> As if team Torchwood would let an opportunity like that slide :P


	24. Water and Fire

“So, Doc, where did you pick this one up?” Jack asked, as he peered into the murky depths of a vast filter tank, “Cute as hell, by the way.”

“This?” the Doctor swished her coat around with pride, “Charity shop - can you believe some of the stuff people throw away?

Jack snorted, “I mean, sure, great pockets, love the lining – but I’m talking about the gorgeous brunette you’ve been wrecking Gwen’s sofa with.”

The Doctor stopped her swishing and stood rooted to the spot.

“We’re friends.”

“Oh, pull the other one, Doc.”

“That’s what she told me.” 

“Yeah? Was this while you were having a quick shag on the couch, or afterwards, when Gwen said she caught you all snuggled up together?”

The Doctor blushed fiercely and turned away to look out over the grey waters of the bay.

“It’s not – oh, look, would you believe me if I said I don’t know?”

Jack tilted his head and narrowed his eyes, “You don’t know if you got it on with her, or -?”

“No!” the Doctor pouted in frustration, “Ooh, Jack, you’re so – so –”

“Handsome? Charming?”

“Frustrating!” she kicked at a small tuft of grass, venting excess annoyance, “Honestly, why is it with you that it’s always about – you know?”

“Sex?” Jack grinned, amused by her fits of alternating fury and shyness, “It’s not a dirty word, Doc. Live a little.”

The Doctor sighed, shoving her hands deep into her coat pockets and sinking down onto a nearby rock.

“Too far?” Jack said a little guiltily.

“A tad,” the Doctor half-smiled, before shuffling over so he could sit next to her.

They stared out at the muddy expanse of the estuary, coats flapping in the sea-breeze. 

“Sorry,” Jack said softly, clearing his throat.

“Apology accepted,” the Doctor smiled, nudging his shoulder with hers.

“I know I might come on a little strong,” he caught the timelord’s eye, forestalling her, “but I really just want to know you’re happy. Cos last time I saw you… well, all that stuff with the Master. And Martha, poor thing, she didn’t really stand a chance after Rose, did she?”

He caught the Doctor’s eye, but she looked away, smile fading.

“Man, I miss her - both of them,” he sighed heavily. “It’s a lonely, old universe out there, Doctor, and it’s not something you should face on your own. We need people, you and me – I need my team, and you need Yaz.”

The Doctor stared out to sea, tears running silently down her cheeks. Overwhelmed by memories and still-healing wounds. The worst part was that she couldn’t tell him about the saddest stories – letting Donna go, losing Amy, River, and Clara, seeing Rose happy without her – because they were still in his future. The next time they met in his timeline, she would be a floppy-haired ‘he’ again, and half of Jack’s team would…

She blinked rapidly, her eyes stinging, the weight of grief suddenly heavy on her shoulders.

Sometimes it was too much for one individual to bear.  

“Doc?” Jack frowned, seeing her tear-streaked face, and slipped a warm arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a bear-hug. He didn’t ask, just held her to him.

So, she pressed her face into his coat and wept. The thick wool tickled, but she could not stop the tears from flowing, soaking into his lapels. She cried for all the friends she had loved and lost. For the people and creatures that had died because of her. For all that had been and never could be again.

“Hey there,” Jack said softly, letting her sob and stroking her hair soothingly, “I’ve got you.”

She cried, and he held her. The wind whipped around them, two lonely travellers with the weight of all the worlds on their shoulders.

As her sobs eventually quietened, she pulled away, mopping at her face with bunched-up coat sleeves.

“M’sorry,” she mumbled, her lip still wobbling and her face red-raw in the wind.

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for,” he smiled warmly, his tone genuine, “and you know, I’ve always thought I look more dashing in wet clothes.” He flashed her a quick wink and she snorted, despite herself.

“You great prat,” the Doctor smiled back, punching him lightly on the arm.

“Ow,” he protested, feigning insult, “I show you nothing but love and affection and this is how you repay me?” 

“Hang on a cotton-picking second,” the Doctor held up her hand, narrowing her eyes at him, “where was all this love and affection when you let your team run riot this morning?”

“Ha! I’m not gonna apologise for that,” Jack chuckled, waving her hand away. “No way! Yaz walks in looking like she’s had an octopus suckered to her neck all night and you like that cat that got the cream? There’s no _way_ I’m letting that slide. That is _gold_!”

The Doctor huffed indignantly, but the tell-tale blush tinged her cheeks rosy in the cold air.

“Well, we should probably get back to collecting samples,” she said in slightly squeaky voice, getting up and strolling over to one of the big collection tanks.

“And I thought _I_ was good at deflecting,” Jack half-muttered to himself.

He jogged over to her, holding out a pipette dropper as she uncapped the small glass tubes. 

“Seriously, though,” he smiled at her as she deposited murky water and sediment into one of the tubes, “you two are definitely more than friends.” 

The Doctor ignored him, capping the sample and pocketing it before heading over to the next vat.

“Because I’ve had friends, and I’ve had lovers – like a tonne of those –” his eyes sparkled with memory, and he held out another tube, “and you and me – we’re totally the former –” 

He chased after her again as she moved on, still not speaking.

“- but you and Yaz? No way. What I wouldn’t give for someone to look at me like that, like there’s nobody else in the room,” he watched her, noting the slight pause in her movements before she pressed on again.

“And the way she keeps touching you? I’ve seen you two holding hands when you think no-one’s looking. Completely adorable, by the way.”

There was a definite pink flush to the back of her neck as he followed her on to the final tank, pocketing the tubes she’d silently passed him.

“Yaz said you were just friends?” he raised his brows in mocking disbelief, “Well either she was lying, scared, or both. But from what I’ve seen – and unfortunately for me that’s a lot less than Gwen –” he winked, “she’s made her choice and it doesn’t look like she’s leaving you, like ever.”

The Doctor swivelled on the spot, anger and grief sparking through her as memories reverberated through her.

“Don’t,” she practically hissed at him, “don’t say that.”

Jack took a step back, wondering what he’d said.

“Woah there,” he held his hands up in surrender, “I –” 

“Come on,” she interrupted brusquely, turning on her heel and walking off towards the steps to the cliffs, “these sewage outlets aren’t gonna explore themselves.”

Completely baffled, he trailed after her.

“Doctor?” he shouted into the wind, skipping down the stone steps two at a time. 

Either she was ignoring him again, or her reply was lost in the breeze.

“DOCTOR?” 

He spotted her then, stepping across the rocks and ducking behind the grate that led to the outlet canal running through the base of the cliffs.

“I said ‘down and dirty’, not ‘run away from your problems and ignore me’,” Jack muttered to himself as he clambered across the shale, slipping past the metal gate.

Blinking into the sudden gloom he stepped forward gingerly, stumbling into the Doctor, who was stood waiting for him.

“Whoops,” he apologised, quickly righting himself. “Sorry, didn’t see you there.”

“We’re not friends.”

“Huh?”

“We’re not friends,” the Doctor repeated, not moving from the spot.

“Jeez, talk about an overreaction – what did I say?” Jack frowned, hurt and confused.

“Not you,” the timelord said, rolling her eyes a little, “Yaz and I – you said we’re not friends.”

Swallowing down instant relief, Jack crinkled his eyes at her, “That’s not exactly what I -”

“Only we are friends, but we’re also not friends, and I don’t know what that means,” the Doctor gabbled.

“Ok…”

“But it’s not ok. It can never be ok, Jack. We were fine before we came here, we were happy. And then I saw you and all of it came flooding back. I thought I had gotten it out of my system and then you go ahead practically quoting her back at me and suddenly I’m back there -  telling her to go, telling her not to stay because it’s too dangerous, and she’s determined to stay “I’ve made my choice… I’m never gonna leave you”. That’s what she said, Jack, and then she did. She left.”

The Doctor was panting slightly, angry tears pouring down her cheeks.

“I didn’t know – I would never mean to –”

She continued, not caring for syntax or explanation.

“They all leave, Jack. Eventually, they all leave. And sometimes it’s not their fault, and sometimes it is, and I just can’t do it again. I can’t lose Yaz too,” she took a deep breath. “It’s amazing – she’s amazing – and when I’m with her it’s fire and electricity and I’m drowning. I’d do anything to make her happy, but that absolutely terrifies me. She scares me because I can’t remember the last time I felt like this, and I don’t know what to do. I can’t keep my hands off her, and it’s brilliant and magical, and oh, Mox’s moons, Jack, I just don’t know!”

He smiled at her as she took a few deep, calming breaths.

“Oh, Doc,” he reached a hand out, tenderly wiping away the tears with the rough pad of his thumb, “you need to stop overthinking it. Stop using your head and listen – what does your heart tell you?”

The Doctor sniffed quietly, thinking, “That we’re more than friends.”

“And?” he prompted, gently.

“Oh,” her mouth fell open and she gulped loudly, staring at him with hazel eyes swimming, “Oh, Jack, I think… I think I lo-” 

“No,” he shook his head at her firmly, “that’s not something for me. Say it to her first.”

“Right, yeah,” she stared around, suddenly feeling foolish, “Sorry.” 

“It’s fine,” he grinned back.

Hearing a rhythmic chirp, Jack patted down his pockets, feeling for his phone, “Update from the others,” he told her, before picking up, quickly.

“Hey, what’s  - woah,” a frown screwed up his handsome features, “wait – slow down – what?”

Looking up in concern, the Doctor saw a flash of panic cross his face. 

“Ok – look, just stay put – get Owen, tell him to bring – we’re coming – stay with her!”

And he hung up, thrusting the device back into his breast-pocket, already heading back to the metal grate.

“Jack, what’s wrong?” the Doctor asked hurriedly.

He looked back, eyes full of worry.

“That was Gwen, we’ve got to get back.”

“What about Yaz? They were together weren’t they?”

Jack clenched his jaw, weighing up the truth with the need to keep her moving.

“We need to go, now.”

***** TO BE CONTINUED *****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eeeeek!


	25. The Grief Gauntlet

“What is it? What’s wrong” Yaz’s voice trembled slightly, as she stared down at the metallic glove in her hands.

“Drop it! Fucking drop it!” Gwen was shouting at her as she backed away, eyes wide and fearful.

Yaz stared at her, then down at the object she was holding. It felt cold in her hands – not like the cool kiss of metal, but endothermic, as though it was sucking the heat from her. She placed it on the floor and moved away, swallowing down a sudden wave of nausea.

“Gwen,” she said slowly, eyes fixed on the gauntlet, as though it were a snake about to strike, “what is that thing?”

“Trouble,” the older officer replied, also watching the glove. “We had one just like this in the base. Had to be destroyed.” 

“But it’s just a glove? Like those armoured gloves that medieval knights and stuff used to wear, right?” Yaz was confused. 

“No, it’s alien technology, and it’s dangerous as hell.”

Yaz shivered, feeling as though cold water had been poured down her spine.

“What does it do?”

“The other one could bring people back to life,” Gwen said in a monotone, not taking her eyes from the gauntlet.

“What? But that’s brilliant, isn’t it?”

“It was only ever for a few minutes,” Gwen shook her head, wincing at the memories, “but then it got out of control. We brought Suzie back and it wouldn’t stop. It opened up a link between us and she was draining my life-force. I nearly died.”

Yaz frowned as she watched the older woman. Gwen had grown pale and her face was expressionless, fixated on the object between them. She shivered again, shoving her hands in her jacket pockets, feeling as cold as if she’d dipped them in a bucket of ice.

“Who’s Suzie?”

Gwen looked up at her at last, eyes not quite meeting hers. 

“She was part of the team and now she’s not,” she said simply.

Sensing that this conversation was going anywhere fast, Yaz stepped forwards and bent to wrap the gauntlet back up. 

“What are you _doing?_ ”

The younger officer jumped at the hissed response.

“Well we can hardly leave it here, can we?” Yaz reasoned, carefully folding the cloth back around the glove. “If we take it back to the base, the team can have a proper look at it?” 

“Fine,” Gwen muttered, tension still running through every line of her body, “but just don’t touch it, ok?”

“Well, I’ve already done that, but ok, I’ll be careful,” Yaz muttered half to herself as she folded the object up and slipped it into her satchel.

She stood back up, swaying slightly and feeling a little sick. _Great,_ she thought, _two days in rainy Cardiff and I’ve already got a cold_. Rolling her neck and shoulders in an attempt to loosen up, she followed Gwen out of the warehouse and back to the car.

The metal glove seemed denser than she remembered, the satchel weighing heavily on her shoulder, the strap tight across her chest. It lay against her side coldly. Yaz shivered again, swallowing down the acidic burn rising in the back of her throat, and pulled her jacket tighter around her.

The misting rain outside was bitingly cold against her cheeks, and she jogged quickly over to join Gwen, who was already warming up the car. She stumbled slightly, catching herself just before she faceplanted the gravel.

“You alright?” Gwen called out, opening the drivers-side window a crack.

“Fine,” Yaz replied, walking over more slowly.

Shaking off the incident as tired clumsiness, she slid into the passenger seat, slipping her satchel off and settling it between her feet. It hit the carpeted floor with thick clunking noise. Gwen shot a sideways look at her.

“You sure? No offence but you look a bit peaky.”

“None taken,” Yaz gave a small smile in return, “Reckon I’m coming down with something though?”

“Welcome to Cardiff,” Gwen smirked, putting the car into first and sweeping shale into the air as put her foot down, leaving the warehouse behind them. 

* * *

The journey back was quieter and Yaz spent much of it gazing out of the rain-wet window and fighting back alternating waves of nausea and fatigue. _What I need_ , she thought, _is a really good night’s sleep_. Travelling with the Doctor was amazing, but between the constant adrenaline rush and the more recent night-time developments, she felt completely exhausted. What she wouldn’t give to be back in the immeasurable comfort of the timelord’s double bed, the thick duvet and the blonde wrapped tightly around her.

A smile played across her lips as she recalled the first few moments of that morning. She had felt deliciously warm and cosy, aching and sated, the Doctor’s breath tickling her neck. Her cheeks burned with sudden heat, assuaging the cold for a moment.

“What’s tickling you?” Gwen interrupted, an eyebrow raised in her direction.

Yaz bit her lip, inwardly cursing her body’s ability to give away her every thought, “Nothing?”

“Yeah, right,” the Welsh officer laughed, “you were thinking about the Doctor, weren’t you?” 

“Alright, so what if I was?” Yaz gave up, she hadn’t the energy to play games.

“You’re dead cute, you are,” Gwen grinned, “so, spill, what’s she like?”

“Warm, funny, total klutz, and she’s got this weird thing about custard creams,” Yaz smiled dreamily, thinking of all the adjectives that described the timelord.

“Yeah, but I mean the sex? What’s she like?” 

“What?” 

“Sorry – that’s totally crass,” Gwen sighed, rolling her eyes, “I just wondered, being all spacey and stuff, is it different? She looks like she might have a few tricks up her sleeve.” 

“I… uh…” Yaz blushed hard, not knowing what to say, “We… well… she…”

“Oh ho,” a look of surprise crossed Gwen’s face, “you have done it haven’t you?" 

“Well, I suppose… we…”

“What? I just assumed you had. Wait, why not?”

“Honestly, it’s all a bit new,” Yaz found her voice again, concentrating on the conversation to ward off the creeping, cold nausea.

“What?” Gwen sounded confused, “But what all was that on my sofa then?”

Yaz flushed, “Well, I mean, we’ve done… some stuff…”

Gwen cocked her eyebrow, a wry smile playing on her lips again, “Oh, aye?”

Yaz snorted, the ridiculous teenage quality of this conversation hitting home.

“Yeah, we just haven’t – you know –”

“Gone all the way?” Gwen smirked.

“Yeah,” Yaz breathed, half-amused, half-cringing.

“Honestly, you two,” the older woman laughed softly, “well I do not want to be around when you finally seal the deal. Not sure my sofa could take much more!”

They both chuckled, and Yaz felt some of the embarrassment float away.

“Aw, it’s sweet that you get so wound up by all this, really,” Gwen shot a quick grin at her, “I bet you were worse as a teenager though – your poor parents!”

“They’re pretty cool most of the time – they’re pretty liberal, all things considered, really.”

“That’s great – what do they think of the Doc?”

“Well mum’s all for it – she already thought we were dating!” Yaz rolled her eyes.

“Smart woman,” Gwen nodded her head with a smile, “has she always been that welcoming when you bring a girl home?”

“Well, it’s not really happened before.”

“Oh, right, men before was it?” 

“No,” Yaz frowned, the sick feeling in her stomach rising again, “it’s just that I’ve never really brought anyone home before.”

Gwen shot her a look, “Woah, so hang on – are you telling me you’ve never –”

“Yup"

“- not just not with the Doctor, but not with anyone?”

“Yeah…” Yaz could feel that creeping cold emanating from the satchel at her feet and she shivered.

“Fuck off,” Gwen swore in quiet shock, “seriously?”

“Seriously – like I said, it’s all new and I just – agh…” Yaz bent over as a sudden cramp tore through her.

“You ok?” Gwen dropped the smile and looked at her in some concern.

“Yeah, sorry it’s just – oh god, I’m gonna be sick – pull over!” 

With a quick check of her mirrors, the officer pulled in to the side of the road. Yaz tumbled out and knelt down over a metal grate in the road surface, emptying the contents of her stomach into the drain. She felt wretched, bile coating her mouth and a cold sweat breaking out on her forehead. 

“Jeez, Yaz, you ok?” Gwen had put the brakes on and followed her out, patting her gently on the back. 

The younger woman vomited again, clutching her abdomen and shivering.

“Right, we need to get you back to base,” Gwen said firmly, “forget the other interviews, you’re in no shape to see them today. We’re only a few minutes from the quay – can you last that long?” 

Yaz nodded, wiping her mouth on the back of her sleeve, and stood up slowly, her knees feeling like jelly.

Helping her back round to the passenger’s side, Gwen gave her a plastic bag from the boot with a “just in case”, before slipping back into the driver’s seat and setting off at a pace. Yaz watched the town-houses zoom by and tried to concentrate on something other than the gnawing sickness. She closed her eyes, picturing the Doctor, enveloping her in a tight hug, stroking her hair, telling her it would all be ok.

Minutes later Gwen swung the SUV into its parking spot near the quayside and she was helping Yaz out of the car, the two of them heading across the Plass to the hub lift.

“Not far, nearly there,” the Welsh officer lilted, soothingly.

Yaz tried to reply but a wave of dizziness overcame her, and she stumbled, catching herself against the water-tower. She paused, panting.

“So… cold…”

Gwen eyed her up, worried, “Can you stay here for just a moment? I’ve left the lift key in the glovebox. Won’t be a sec.”

Yaz nodded, leaning back against the railings, and wrapping her arms around her, and watching as Gwen jogged back to the car. She closed her eyes again as nausea rose in her throat.

Feeling another shiver run up her legs, she frowned and pulled her coat around her. When the icy cold lingered, she looked down, narrowing her eyes as she saw that her leg was soaked. She glanced up at the sky and quickly around her – no rain, no puddles – how was this happening?

Looking back down at her leg she saw a trail of water that seemed to have come from the water tower. _Weird_ , she thought, _I don’t remember walking into it_. Yet even as she looked, the water seemed to be flowing from the fountain – soaking up one leg, then another, over her knees, up her thighs and higher.

She stood up, trying to brush it off, shivering as the cold, damp jeans clung to her.

“Get off,” she muttered, wiping her hands uselessly over the soaked material.

But it continued to spread, flooding upwards, darkening her shirt, her sleeves, her woollen jumper heavy and dripping.

“Gwen?” she called out, feeling panic rise up in her, “Gwen!” 

The water was sliding across her skin, up her neck, soaking her hair.

Yaz shivered violently, trying to wipe the droplets away as they clung to her. 

“GWEN!”

And then it was covering her eyes, trickling into her ears, pouring into her mouth and nose.

She coughed, spitting and spluttering as salt-water flooded her mouth.

“GWE-”

Her vision was hazy, heart pounding in her ears, and she clawed at her mouth, clamping fingers over her nose. But it wouldn’t stop, the water rushed at her, pouring in, filling her mouth. 

She choked, but even as she spat out mouthfuls of water, more came. Kept coming. She couldn’t breathe. 

She was drowning.

She had come so far, across universes, through time, and now she was standing in the centre of Cardiff and drowning on dry land. She would have laughed, but there was no air left in her lungs.

As she fell to the pavement, she was vaguely aware of shouting. Of a dark-haired person running to her, screaming into her phone.

Yaz lay there, water trickling from her mouth, no longer fighting it. Her chest was still, and an icy cold enveloped her, touching every part of her with its cold kiss. Like a lover. As her vision faded to a black nothing, she thought of her own lover. Of the Doctor.

* * *

“What’s happening, where is she?!” the timelord was frantic with worry, throwing herself out of the car before Jack had even put the brakes on. She hurtled across the Plass, scanning around for them, the American’s shouts lost to her. 

Then she saw it – the tiny crowd around something on the floor. A puddle of water and a limp, leather-jacketed arm. 

She felt sick.

“Doctor!” Jack had caught up with her, gripping her arm fiercely, “I don’t think you want to –”

“ _Get off_ ,” she hissed at him, and pushed past them, shoving Ianto, Gwen, and Tosh aside.

Yaz lay there, her dark skin tinged with a blue, eyes closed, her head nodding in time with Owen’s chest compressions.

The Doctor stared, not believing. This couldn’t be. Yaz couldn’t be – she refused to think it. She just watched as Owen sat back on his knees, pink-faced and panting with effort. _Why was he stopping_? And then he looked up, meeting her eyes, and she saw it.

The world span around her, its axis shifting suddenly with grief. 

And Owen slowly shook his head. 

***** TO BE CONTINUED *****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... you all ok? 
> 
>  
> 
> N.B. Apologies but updates might be more like every 3-days for a bit. My shift pattern was different when I started, then I had annual leave, but now I'm back to 12 hour on-calls, and it's difficult to knock out 2000 word chapters every other day and still sleep! Sorry but I'll do my best :)


	26. Sink or Swim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grab yourself some tissues?

“How long's it been?” the Doctor said quietly, staring down at Yaz’s still form. 

Nobody answered her.

“HOW LONG?”

She turned on them, bright tears streaking down her face. 

“She’s been down nearly twenty minutes,” Ianto muttered, looking down at his pocket watch.

“WHY'VE YOU GIVEN UP THEN?” she shouted at Owen, her voice hot and rasping “You can’t stop!”

“We, um, well,” he looked crestfallen, glancing quickly round at the others, “Look, twenty minutes is a long time with no –”

“We’re not just GIVING UP on her!” a grief-fuelled-fury powered through her, “Do you _hear_ me? WE’RE NOT BLOODY GIVING UP!”

Owen flinched as though she’d slapped him.

“Look, I don’t think –”

“Then start RE-THINKING and MOVE!” she shoved him aside and knelt down to the still form on the floor. Locking her hands together, she found the centre of Yaz’s chest and began a new set of compressions, counting in her head.

_One… two… three…_

She glanced up at the younger woman’s face and instantly wished she hadn’t. With every movement, she could see Yaz’s head lolling lifelessly from side to side.

_Nine… ten… eleven…_

“ _Come on_ …” she muttered, gritting her teeth.

_Eighteen… nineteen… twenty…_

She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the blue-tinge of Yaz’s lips, water still clinging to them, her face ghostly pale.

_Twenty-four… twenty-five… twenty-six…_

The cold stillness of the chest below her palms was sickening, the beat-less heart no longer bringing blood rushing to those soft cheeks. 

_Twenty-nine… thirty…_

The Doctor drew back, tilting Yaz’s head back and pinching her nose before lowering her mouth to meet icy lips. As she blew two warming breaths in, watching for the rise and fall of the lifeless chest, she felt the tears running down her cheeks, adding to the saltiness of Yaz’s lips.

_This can’t be it_ , she thought uncomprehending, _this can’t be our last kiss_.

Seeing the chest rise and fall had given her a taste of hope, but now it was still once again. In an instant the Doctor was back on Yaz’s chest again, knowing that this was her only chance, their only chance. She started to count again, not able to look at the lolling head.

_One… two… three…_  

She could feel the stares of the team around her, feel their own grief pressing in on her. 

_Eleven… twelve… thirteen_

“Are you lot just gonna stand there?” she spat, trying not to lose count.

_Nineteen… twenty… twenty-one…_

“I really don’t see how –”

“Then shut-up and _think_ , Tosh!”

_Twenty-eight… twenty-nine… thirty…_

She bent over Yaz once again, sealing their mouths together and forcing precious, warm oxygen into her. The chest rose and dipped, once, twice, then stilled again. 

_One… two… three…_

Her arms were sore, but she couldn’t stop. 

_Eight… nine… ten…_

“COME ON, THINK!”

_Thirteen… fourteen… fifteen…_

“I might have something.” 

She looked up at Owen, desperate in small hope. 

_Twenty… twenty-one… twenty-two…_

“Right, we need to get her down to the lab,” he spoke quickly, glancing at the others.

“I’ll get the stretcher.”

“I’ll help.”

“Heaters? Blankets? Let’s go.”

Around her, the Doctor could sense things movement, the team finally snapping into action. But she had to keep counting, keep concentrating.

_Twenty-nine… Thirty…_

Another two rescue breaths, mouth pressed tightly to hers, forcing her airways open. There was still no response, and when she moved away, Yaz’s jaw fell back open slackly.

Wiping away the tears that blurred her vision, she shifted ready to recommence compressions, but found Jack already there.

“I got this - one, two, three,” he counted out loud as he leant over Yaz’s still form. 

The Doctor sat back on her heels, passing a hand across her eyes again. Her arms and shoulders ached terribly, and she rubbed them, feeling weary and small. She watched Jack, static buzzing in her ears, trying to block out the noise of Yaz’s leather jacket rubbing wetly against the hard pavement.

“- twenty-nine, thirty!” he looked up at her as he paused, face red with effort.

She bent down again and pressed her mouth once again to Yaz’s in a cruel mockery of a kiss. Two lungfuls of air delivered, she drew back again, and watched as Jack returned his locked hands to the young officer’s chest.

The next few minutes passed by in a haze of tears and aching repetition, hope growing smaller by the second. They had to alternate a few times as they both tired quickly, and the Doctor felt nothing as she watched Jack seal his mouth to Yaz’s inflating her chest twice briefly. She was numb to it all. There was no romance in death, there never was.

“Get her on here, now!”

She heard Owen shout and a sudden flurry of activity descended all around her. She watched vaguely as Yaz rose up, hands lifting her as though she weighed no more than a kitten and depositing her on the gurney with a wet slap. Her arm rolled off, ragdoll-like, swinging limply against the metal trolley.

Gwen had already climbed up onto the stretcher and was straddling the lifeless form, pressing down hard on her chest. The Doctor heard the unmistakable snap of a rib breaking and she turned away to lean against the railings, vomiting feebly.

“I’ve got you,” she felt strong arms around her waist, and leaned back, wiping a sleeve across her mouth. She let Jack drag her upright, holding on to him for support, her knuckles white as she gripped his coat. 

“Jack, I can’t –”

“We’re not giving up, you _can’t_ give up,” he held her, fixing her with intense blue eyes, “Now buckle up and –”

“- get a shift on?” she offered up weakly. 

“Sure,” he nodded, agreeing to whatever would get her moving fastest, “now let’s go!”

They half-ran, half-stumbled across the Plass, boots thudding across the paving-stones before skidding to a halt at the lift-entrance. 

“Where are they? Where have they taken her?” the Doctor looked around wildly, nausea rising once more.

“It’s ok – they had to take her around – the lift is too small,” Jack calmed her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder as the lift began its descent. He was concerned she might fling herself off before it touched down.

As soon as the stone-lift clunked against the metal floor, the Doctor was off, following the crashing noises emanating from Owen’s lab. Taking the stairs two at a time, she half-fell on the medic as he bent to connect up several cables.

“Oi!” he snapped at her, “watch yourself – or do you not want me to try and save your girlfriend?”

“Owen!” the collective outrage echoed around the small room. 

“Alright, I’m sorry – look, just hold this?” he apologised, holding out a collection of wires and metal clips. 

The Doctor held them, feeling fuzzy-headed, trying to take it all in. Tosh stood over Yaz’s chest, red and panting with the effort of compressions. Gwen stood nearby, holding a rugby-ball sized bag which was connected to several inches of plastic tubing sticking out of the brunette’s mouth. The Welsh officer squeezed a long breath out of the bag every few seconds, and Yaz’s chest rose and fell with the air. Meanwhile, Ianto had covered Yaz’s lower half with as many heated blankets as he could find, and now stepped over to join Tosh, ready to take over.

“What can I do?” Jack pushed past her, and Owen muttered a few words, pointing at the wires.

They switched positions and as the American hastily uncoiled cables and plugged in various monitors, Owen took the wires from her and began attaching them to lifeless wrists and ankles. The Doctor stood there, numbly, watching as he ripped open Yaz’s shirt, exposing dark, mottled skin, and a damp, lacy bra.

She blinked slowly, feeling as far removed from it all as though she were watching the action from afar, on some distant television channel. The monitors lit up with numbers and bleeps, and one, very telling flat-line.

“Shit,” she heard Owen mutter, as he tightened a tourniquet around Yaz’s arm, lightly smacking the back of her hand.

Holding a syringe between his teeth, he slid a cannula into the biggest vein he could find and taped it down perfunctorily. As he injected a drug, he looked up at the monitors. 

“Adrenaline given at 12.58, Ianto, start your stopwatch.”

Nodding briefly, Ianto pulled the watch out of his waistcoat pocket, pressing it and stepping aside to let Jack take over the CPR. 

Meanwhile, Owen scrambled back to his equipment trolley, pulling out bags of clear fluid and vials of medication, all the while keeping a beady eye on the monitors. 

“Is there anything I can do?” the Doctor’s voice sounded hollow in her head.

“Yeah,” Owen mumbled through a mouthful of plastic tubing, “get her clothes off.”

“What?” the blonde almost slapped him in shock.

Rolling his eyes at her obvious misunderstanding, he spat the tubing out and corrected her.

“Honestly, what has Gwen been telling you about me? We need to get her warm and those damp jeans aren’t helping.”

“Oh,” the Doctor swallowed and shook herself, “right, yeah.”

Moving to Yaz’s side, she felt for the buckle of her belt, fingers trembling with fatigue and worry. 

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered to the still form, “this isn’t how I thought this would go.”

“Doc, this is no time for romance,” Jack panted, screwing up his face with the effort of continued chest compressions, “just do it and quickly.”

Nodding, the Doctor gave her numb fingers a quick squeeze before shuffling Yaz’s soaked jeans, boots, and socks off, trying her best to preserve what little dignity was left to her companion. Covering her with several layers of woollen blanket, she moved up, awkwardly sliding one arm then the other out of the leather jacket and shirt sleeves. Owen helped her shift tug the clothing out from underneath her back with a quick roll, before Gwen switched with Jack and continued the compressions.

Hearing a rustle, she looked over to see Ianto struggling with a plastic, sheet, attaching one end to some sort of generator. When the sheet inflated into tubes, he placed it over Yaz’s lower half.

“Warming her up,” he answered the Doctor’s unasked question, before turning back to Owen. “Three minutes.”

“Thanks,” the dark-haired medic bent picked another syringe out of the drawer and injected another ampule of medication into Yaz’s arm. 

The screen still showed an endless, glowing straight line.

“Come on, come on,” he muttered, pulling yet another drawer open and hanging a bag of fluid to a short metal pole, running a thin plastic tube from it through a whirring machine, and into the cannula.

“You’re gonna drown her,” the Doctor stepped forward, panicked. 

“She needs this,” he held her wrist, gently but firmly, “we need to dry her lungs out – this will help.” 

“He may be an arse, but he knows what he’s doing,” Gwen spoke up as she stepped away, letting Tosh take over.

“Six minutes,” Ianto called, showing them his watch.

Owen bent once more, slowly pushing the tiny ampule of adrenaline into Yaz’s vein. 

They stood back, staring at the screen, willing it to change.

The monitor blipped once at them, and for a moment the tiniest positive deflection flashed in glowing green, before the flat-line resumed once more. 

“Come on, _COME ON_!” Owen shouted, slamming his fist onto the top of the machine.

“She’s been down nearly thirty-five minutes now,” Ianto said softly, staring down at his watch. 

“What and you think we should stop?” Jack narrowed his eyebrows at them.

Gwen opened her mouth but said nothing, and Tosh kept her eyes fixed on her locked palms as she puffed her cheeks out with the effort.

“Please,” the Doctor’s voice was raw and crackled with emotion, “ _please_ don’t stop. She wouldn’t.”

Frowning, Owen pressed a stethoscope to the bare skin of Yaz’s chest, listening carefully. Then he pulled out his phone and lifted her eyelids carefully, shining the camera-flash into them.

“The Doc’s right,” he said, drawing away, “she’s still got bibasal crackles but they don’t sound as bad as they did and her pupils are still reacting. She’s still pretty cold – I say we give her a bit longer.”

The Doctor flung herself at him, hugging the scrawny man so tightly she almost winded him.

“Gerroff,” he tried to extricate himself, patting her arm gently.

“Nine minutes.”

Sliding out from under her grip, he pulled a fourth syringe and pushed another milligram into Yaz. 

They held their breath, watching the thin green line, Tosh’s panting and the rhythmic squeak of the gurney filling the room.

_“_ Come back to me,” the Doctor choked softly, tears running unchecked down her cheek, “I can’t do this without you, with no Yaz.” 

The line wavered. 

***** TO BE CONTINUED *****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry... but maybe, just maybe, things will get better in the next chapter?


	27. Choosing Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're ready for this!

“How long’s it been?” Tosh muttered, unconsciously echoing the Doctor’s question from the previous day. 

“Nine hours, and I’d say, about thirty-eight minutes?” Ianto set the tray of coffees down on the table, slipping his stopwatch back into his pocket.

“And she’s sat there all this time?” Tosh sighed, staring at the hunched form of the Doctor on the screen, “Poor thing, she must know by now –”

“Know what, Tosh?” Gwen looked up, her face hard and eyes narrowed.

“Well,” the bespectacled hacker dipped her head and spoke softly, “you know that there’s not much point –” 

“Not much point in what? Wanting to spend time with the one you love when they’re –” she choked, unable to say it, to finish that sentence.

“I’m just saying, it’s not logical –” 

“Well fuck you and your logic!” Gwen was angry now, tears of grief and rage stinging her eyes, “You lot are so wrapped up in the shit we deal with here you’ve forgotten what it’s like to even have someone to lose.”

Tosh paled and shut her mouth, looking down at her mug, but Owen had narrowed his eyes at Gwen.

“Hypocrite,” he said, with a slight smirk.

“What did you say?” the welsh lilt was low and dangerous as Gwen caught his eye.

“I said you’re a hypocrite,” Owen raised an eyebrow, resting back in his chair, “Not sure you should be counting old Rhys-y boy as your someone when you spend most of your time here mooning over Jack, or shagging –” 

_Slap_!

Gwen’s open hand connected suddenly with Owen’s face, nearly knocking him off his chair. 

“Woah, what’s going on in here?” Jack appeared, wiping his eyes tiredly, and taking in a furious Owen and Gwen.

“Nothing,” they said in unison, Owen’s cheek glowing scarlet.

“Sure,” Jack raised an eyebrow, before letting his features soften, “how’s she doing?”

“How d’you think?” Gwen answered, shooting a look at Owen and daring him to speak up. He stayed broodily silent, rubbing his face and glaring back. 

“Maybe one of us should talk to her?” Tosh suggested.

“Good idea,” Jack nodded his agreement, “but maybe not you two?” He turned to fix the sullen pair with a look.

“I’ll do it,” Ianto said quietly.

They all turned to look at him, having almost forgotten his presence.

“Well, since I’m the only one who knows what it’s like to lose a girlfriend in this place…” he trailed off with a sad smile on his lips, picking up their empty mugs, “I’ll make her a nice cuppa.”

* * *

“Penny for them?”

The Doctor gratefully took the steaming cup from Ianto, holding it to her chest and letting the warmth spread. Her two hearts felt cold and numb beneath her ribs, barely beating.

“What do I do?” 

It had been so long since she had last spoken that her mouth felt stiff, foreign.

Smiling sadly at her, Ianto let images of Lisa flood his vision. He saw her as she was, carefree and laughing, snuggled up next to him in their tiny tent on a French beach, holding him close until the storm passed. He remembered her winking at him across the office, grinning cheekily as she pinged him a flirty instant message under the eyes of their bosses. He felt the cold rush of grief as he saw her die twice over, a mangled, bloody mess of metal and skin, and again when her execution squad, his own team, riddled her with bullets.

Taking a deep breath to ward off the tears that threatened, he met the Doctor’s reddened eyes.

“Don’t give up on her, not if you love her.”

His words echoed through her, and she stared back at him, seeing carefully hidden grief tattooed in tiny lines around his eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, acknowledging his unspoken loss. 

Ianto nodded slowly, before dropping his gaze and slipping his hands into his pockets, folding back into himself.

“Well,” he smiled wanly at her, “if there’s anything I can do, just shout.”

Dipping his head once more, he turned and left, soft shoes quiet against the stone steps.

Sighing, the Doctor held the hot tea to her lips, closing her eyes briefly as the scalding liquid coated her tongue, burning her throat as she swallowed. She had forgotten what it was like to feel warm, and the artificial heat was a momentary reminder.

Opening her eyes again, she returned to gazing at the blinking monitor, the dips and peaks of the electrocardiogram as unchanged as they had been for many hours now. They had all been ecstatic when Yaz had returned to spontaneous circulation, the flat-line wavering and blinking a few times before a slow sinus rhythm took its place. But as the minutes became hours and she showed no signs of waking up, the fear had set back in. One by one the others had made their excuses and left, unable to watch as the minutes crept by, taking with them small slices of hope that Yaz would return to consciousness, unharmed.

The Doctor hadn’t left her side. She had been there when Owen had changed the plastic airway for a thinner intubation tube, attaching it to a machine which breathed for her. She had been there when Gwen brought a soft pair of cotton pyjamas, and helped to slip them onto Yaz’s slim frame, at last covering up her bared chest and bandaging up the broken ribs. And she was the only one there now, holding Yaz’s hand in the darkness of the small room.

“I’ve always liked you in stars,” she whispered softly, placing the mug down, and fingering the cotton sleeve of the gifted navy and silver night-sky pyjamas, “they’re like these bright, twinkly lights scattered across the universe, and people wish upon them, forgetting they’re just big balls of dust and gas. But I think that’s kinda beautiful – people choosing to see the good in everything. That’s what you do.”

She stroked the inside of Yaz’s wrist, sighing as she felt the radial pulse strong against her fingers. 

“You and stars - you show me the beauty of things others would overlook – tea, purple sofas, dancing in the dark,” she smiled slightly, “and there’s still so much more I want to see with you, to do with you.”

The Doctor swallowed dryly, shifting her stool round so she could lay her head on Yaz’s stomach, watching her chest rise and fall with the soft click of machinery.

“We can go and eat glitter-chips on Ikon, or swim in the crystal lagoon of Mariger, or skate up and down the pier in New New California - you’d love it all. Then afterwards, we could push the doors wide open, curl up together on the sofa, and watch a white dwarf star burn it’s brightest.”

She gave Yaz’s hand another squeeze, threading their fingers together.

“I once burned up a sun for someone,” the Doctor said quietly, “but I’d burn an entire galaxy just to see you smile again.”

She huffed warm air against Yaz’s stomach.

“Except you’d never let me do that,” a smile quirked her lips again, “would ya? You’d be all ‘come on, Doctor, give over, nobody’s worth that’.”

Sitting up slowly, she rolled her neck to ease the stiffness there.

“You think that nobody sees you, Yaz, not your parents, not your colleagues, not your friends - but I do. I see you, Yasmin Khan, and I love every stubborn, kind imperfection you have to offer. And, just so you know…”

She bent forwards, sweeping a lock of hair away and placing a soft kiss on Yaz’s forehead.

“…I love you,” she murmured gently against Yaz’s skin, before drawing away.

“Jack told me to say it to you first, but I’d always envisaged you being conscious when I did,” she laughed softly, a tear pooling in the corner of her mouth, “but I had to say it, just in case I don’t get another chance. I hope I get another shot at it, though.” 

She bit her lip, holding on to Yaz as the dark dizziness returned, swirling around her like a fog.

“I’m glad you took my advice,” Jack spoke quietly, appearing at her side and wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulder.

She leant against him, feeling suddenly weary.

“Oh, Jack,” she sighed, wiping her sleeve across her eyes, “what more can I do? Why won’t she wake up?”

“I’m not sure, Doc,” he continued, squeezing her arm comfortingly, “but the team have been hashing some ideas out, and we might have something.”

The Doctor looked up sharply, but he cut her off before she could speak.

“Now the last time we came into contact with one of these,” he reached across to a shelf and held out the still-wrapped metal gauntlet, “Gwen nearly died. It’s supposed to resurrect people, but all it did was drain life from one person to another. Now this one,” he studied it carefully, “seems to have the opposite effect - we checked it on a couple of mice earlier, and it did the same thing as it did to Yaz – drowned them. So, our working theory is that this is the reverse of the other glove – it gives energy to the user, draining its victim.”

“So, this thing killed Yaz?” 

“Most likely, yeah,” he cut her off again as he saw her mouth open in shock, “but, last time, all we had to do was destroy the glove and it broke the link – saved Gwen.”

“So, do it!” she looked at him, eyes wide with surprise.

“We, uh, already did, a few minutes ago,” he held the gauntlet out to her and now she could see the charred metal and catch a whiff of the electrical smoke, “did you notice anything?” 

“Oh, no” the Doctor’s heart sank again, Yaz’s hand still limp in hers, “was that your plan?”

“It was part of it,” Jack nodded, putting the bundle back down on a shelf and pulling up another stool so they were at eye level. “But although we broke the link, the gauntlet sorta took her energy, and it seems like a one-way channel.”

“So, she needs energy?” the Doctor’s head was spinning as she tried to follow the conversation.

“Yeah – now do you remember what happened on Satellite Five? How I was brought back to life?”

“Jack,” she narrowed her eyes, shocked, “you cannot be serious. I am not letting Yaz anywhere near the heart of the TARDIS.” 

“No, I didn’t mean that,” he smiled softly at her, “what I meant was that somehow that energy got directed into me, and since then –” he spread his arms wide, “- well, death’s not really been a problem.”

“Well thanks for the update,” the Doctor turned back to Yaz, her voice sour. How could he bring stuff like that up at a time like this?

He rolled his eyes, “Gah, I’m not bragging, Doc, I’m trying to help. I’m saying that maybe we can transfer some of my life-energy into Yaz – I’ve got plenty going spare?”

She turned to stare at him again, frowning, “Transfer _how_ , exactly?” 

He held up two small spring-loaded lancets and a finger, “Blood of course? What did you think I was gonna mount her or something?” he snorted, “And before you ask, I’m O neg, so no problems there.”

The Doctor narrowed her eyebrows, just as a wave of tiredness washed over her. What did they really have to lose? If there was any chance of getting Yaz back, it was surely worth a shot?

She let her shoulder slump and nodded once at Jack.

Nodding back, he quickly bent to Yaz, motioning for the Doctor to hold out the middle finger of her left hand. With a slight click he drew back, letting the droplet of blood ooze from the finger, before doing the same to his own. Glancing quickly at the timelord, he pressed their fingers together, letting the dark red merge and smear itself across their fingertips. 

The Doctor looked away, eyes fixed on Yaz’s face, searching for signs of life.

“Anything?” Jack drew back, wrapping plasters around their fingers.

“Nothing,” the Doctor whispered, stomach sinking. What had she been expecting?

Frowning in thought, Jack muttered, “It should have worked, what was different?” 

“Apart from the ridiculous notion that your blood could somehow cure her?” she sighed heavily.

“No, last time, with me, what happened?”

“You were infused with time-vortex energy.” 

“So, infuse her!”

“What?” the Doctor stared at him, uncomprehending.

Jack rolled his eyes again, “You’ve got time-energy running through you, right?”

“It’s not quite that simple, I –”

“It is – my blood – I think it needs activating. It needs time-vortex energy.”

The Doctor looked blankly at him.

“Kiss her, Doctor!”

Feeling as though she were in a dream, the Doctor rose, still frowning at Jack, “If this is just you messin’ with me…”

“Oh, for crying out loud, Doc, just bloody kiss her!”

And because there was nothing left to do, no more paths left to try, she bent over the brunette’s still form, moving the endotracheal tube aside slightly, and pressed her lips awkwardly to Yaz’s.

She closed her eyes, trying to summon up the energy that coursed through her veins, feeling the warm glow as it rose, as though from a deep well. She coaxed it up, calling it to her, and it swirled up and around her, bathing their faces in a halo of glittering gold. She opened her mouth against Yaz’s, letting it flow, breathing life back into her, feeling it thrum beneath her skin.

As she drew back, lips tingling with energy, the twinkling light washed over them once more, infusing her with warmth. 

For a moment, nothing happened. 

Then she felt Jack grip her wrist tightly.

“Look!”

The Doctor saw a flicker of movement across Yaz’s face, then the hand in hers twitched, and they heard the faintest cough as the younger woman began to fight against the intubation. 

As she looked at Jack, she realised they were both crying. 

***** TO BE CONTINUED *****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So is everyone happier again? :D
> 
> Sorry for leaving you all in the lurch for so long, but I hope it was worth it. I've not been having the best week - people seem to be dropping out of my life, and I don't know what I've done wrong. But coming back to this fic and you guys in the comments always cheers me up. It's a weird little community, but one that is really getting me through from day to day (56 hours of work this week between Mon-Fri, so I need all the help I can get!). So thank you, to every one of you that reads and reviews this odd little yarn, you're fantastic and I appreciate you all.
> 
> Phantom


	28. Spiralling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tissues at the ready again. I'm sorry in advance.
> 
> And if you're into background music, I'd recommend this once you get to the shower scene: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gx8F-1iz6io

“OWEN!” they shouted simultaneously, grins lighting up their faces. 

As a clatter of feet and voices erupted from above, the Doctor bent over Yaz and cupped her face in both hands, a comforting babble spilling from her lips.

“It’s alright – we’ve got you – you’re ok – stay calm – I’m here, Yaz –” and despite the smile she couldn’t stop the teardrops that poured down her face, splashing in tiny puddles across the younger woman’s face.

But Yaz was wide awake now, clawing at her mouth and coughing violently, panic in her eyes. 

“OWEN!” the Doctor yelled again, as she tried to hold back the thrashing hands.

And suddenly he was there beside her, calm and collected, untying the tube and sliding it out in one smooth motion. As Yaz turned sideways, vomiting weakly, he held a bowl out for her, muttering reassurances to even as he subtly checked her pulse. When she rolled back, he jimmied a switch and the headrest of the trolley came up for her to sit back against.

She was panting and coughing, her face suddenly red, a welcome sight after the cold blue of earlier. All the Doctor could do was hold her hand, letting her squeeze down so tightly she was sure neither of them could have any circulation left in their fingers. She just watched as Owen scampered about, checking pupillary reflexes, casting his eyes over the ECG monitor, and listening to Yaz’s chest.

“Yaz, you drowned but we’ve got you back,” his voice was calm, his eyes fixed on his patient’s, “now I’m going to ask you to do a few things, so I can check that everything’s working ok.” 

He glanced at the Doctor with a small smile, “I’m gonna need her hand back for this, Doc, if that’s ok?”

She nodded, letting go and stepping back. 

Watching as he asked Yaz to test her facial movements and while he examined her reflexes, the Doctor felt suddenly light-headed. She swayed on the spot, bumping against Jack who stood close beside her, a frown on his face.

“You ok, Doc?” he sounded concerned.

“Yeah,” she muttered, “yeah, I’m fine, I just need…” She trailed off making vague gestures with her hand. 

“Tea? Coffee? Shot of something stronger? I’m sure Ianto can rustle something up?”

“I need to just get out of here for a second.”

He furrowed his eyebrows further in confusion, “But Doc, Yaz is awake, she’ll want to see you, she –”

Waving away his concerns, the Doctor pushed up and steadied herself slightly before heading for the stairs. Looking briefly back at him, she shrugged.

“I need a shower – wake up a bit – I feel like death,” she plastered a fake smile onto her face and walked past Gwen and Tosh, who had been watching from the balcony. 

“Yeah, well you’re not fooling anyone,” Jack murmured, exchanging a worried look with his team. 

* * *

The water was like bleach against her skin, burning and washing away the layers of sweat, tears, and worry. The Doctor stood fully-clothed under the spray, feeling it thrum against her skull, blocking out all other noises and thoughts. She closed her eyes, hair plastering her cheeks, and hot rivulets run down off her nose and chin. Some water made its way into her mouth, and she spat it out, trying to imagine for a moment what it would have been like for Yaz.

“You could’ve fought harder,” she ground her teeth, knowing even as she said it that the statement was both unfair and untrue.

Reaching blindly for the dial, she twisted it hard. With a clunk of ancient pipework, the showerhead sprang back, blasting out water so hot the cubicle began to fill with steam. Leaning forward with both hands against the tiles, she looked up into the spray, feeling the drops hit her skin with a hiss like burning needles. 

She needed this, needed to feel something other than sick, cold dread that seemed to permeate every inch of her.

“Why did you do it?” she shouted into the broiling cascade, “Why would you be so _stupid_ as to pick up an alien artefact with your bare hands?”

She thumped her fists against the slippery tiles. The sudden anger was like a wave, crashing into her, unstoppable.

“Why would you stand by a bloody water tower when you knew people were being drowned?”

_Thump_

“Why didn’t Gwen stop you?”

_Thump_

“Why did I leave you?”

She drew in a deep breath, choking as she inhaled droplets of water. As the coughing gave way to sobbing, the Doctor leant back against the tiles, sliding brokenly to the floor. She slumped wetly against tiles, arms wrapped tightly around her knees, staring up into the hot spray, tears washed away by scalding water.

“You promised you wouldn’t leave me!” her voice cracked as she called out, desperate and heartbroken, into the echoing silence.

“You said you’d stay,” she buried her head in her knees and hugged them to her, wracked with silent sobs. 

So, she stayed like that, curled up in the shower-tray, the soaked mess of clothing making her small frame seem smaller yet. Her skin shrivelled under the constant downpour and all she could hear was the thundering noise of it against the tiles. She was deaf to all else, her thoughts gratefully silenced.

Maybe it was better this way, quiet and alone, numb to the rush of feelings. For every jolt of joy and happiness, there was a lurking fear and grief that snapped at her heels from the darkness.

An image of Sherlock flashed suddenly through her mind, and she recalled a quiet exchange between them during that long train-journey into the night.

_“So, you and John…”_

_“Yes.”_

_“You’re friends?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“More than friends?” she gave him a small grin, eyebrows raised._

_“Why must people always –” he sighed, already bored of the sentence, “Look, I don’t do more than friends. More than friends puts people in danger, because you stop thinking like a normal, rational person, and make mistakes. You start imagining that bullets, gravity, and all the evils this world has to offer just don’t apply to you anymore.”_

_He fixed the Doctor with a meaningful stare when he saw her rub the still raw marks around her wrists and wriggle her ankle experimentally._

_“Alone is what I have, Doctor,” he said seriously, his eyes sad and fierce, “alone is what protects me.”_

He was right, if Yaz hadn’t followed her here, she wouldn’t be fighting for her life downstairs. She would be better off without her. Alone would protect them both.

Head fuzzy with exhaustion, she shrank into the thick steam and buried her head in her arms, curling up against the world and all its feelings.   

When Jack eventually found and half-dragged her out of the small cubicle, the water had run ice-cold.

* * *

 

It had been decided that Yaz and the Doctor should return to Gwen’s flat that night, and despite their host’s protests that they should take her bed, had opted once more for the sofa. 

“Thanks, Gwen, that’s really kind, but honestly, I’m fine,” Yaz had pushed her arguments aside, also pointing out that she’d be nearer the bathroom if she still felt nauseous. 

The Welsh officer had grudgingly agreed, but spent ages fussing over her younger friend, making her multiple cups of tea, bringing extra blankets, and stopping just short of physically tucking her into bed.

“Honestly, give over,” Yaz laughed, fending her off with a smile, “Me and the Doc, we’ll be just fine.”

But the Doctor had never felt less fine.

When Owen’s tests and examinations had miraculously turned up no more than mild retrograde amnesia and a few cracked ribs, the team had been ecstatic. Jack had told her everything once he’d helped her towel down and blow-dry her soaked clothing. Owen wanted to keep her in for observations, but Yaz was having none of it, insisting she just needed a proper sleep. After agreeing to the course of antibiotics and painkillers that he recommended, she’d been allowed to leave the Hub.

They had been reunited in the back of the SUV as Jack drove them back to Gwen’s, and there had been a moment where neither seemed to know what to do. Then Yaz had leaned in and pulled the Doctor into a hug, the two of them chuckling awkwardly as they tried to avoid crushing the brunette’s bandaged ribs. After that they had settled back in their seats, Yaz’s hand finding the timelord’s in the dark.

“Talk about a rough day at the office,” Yaz had joked.

The Doctor had huffed a laugh, half-heartedly, and then lapsed into silence. They stayed like that for the rest of the journey, quietly holding hands in the twilight.

Now it was late, and the Doctor watched the passing headlights flicker amber across the ceiling, Yaz pressed up against her side, sleepy breaths against her neck. She felt exhausted, but she couldn’t sleep – not like this. It was like she was paralysed, frozen with indecision as thoughts of Yaz boiled and bubbled over in her head. On the one hand, she felt the indescribable joy of having her here - so alive, so warm, and so tenderly curled up next to her. On the other, she knew that thoughts like this were only making the situation worse, and that pulling away, ending this, would be that much more painful. 

She scrunched up her eyes, a nagging headache at the base of her skull. It was the right thing to do. They were, it seemed, always dancing around the edge of danger, clinging on by their fingertips and exalting in each near miss, but one day – a day like today – it would be too late. There wouldn’t be any more tomorrows.

Better to break it off now, she decided, before they got too much deeper. _Though that’s not quite true_ , the sly voice in her head whispered, _because you’re already as deep as you can get_.

“And that’s why I’ve got to do it now,” she muttered fiercely under her breath, “because I can’t watch you go through this too.” 

She had to protect Yaz, she deserved so much better than this.

Sighing heavily, the Doctor rolled over, her back to Yaz, a sudden coolness replacing the warmth of the sleeping body.

“Where’dyougo?”

Not quite asleep then. The Doctor opened her mouth to reply, but closed it again, not sure what to say. 

“S’cold – come back,” she felt warm hands on her back, sliding around her waist.

It took everything in her not to fall back into the embrace. All she wanted to do was roll back and bury her hands in Yaz’s dark curls, pulling her into a deep, tingling kiss. To lose herself in her star-spangled lover. 

But she didn’t. Instead she tensed her shoulders and pushed the hands gently away.

“What’s wrong? You too warm?” she could hear the warm smile in Yaz’s voice.

Again, she kept her silence, staring fixedly ahead into the dark room.

“Doctor?” there was worry there now too.

The silence was becoming oppressive. 

“You won’t hurt me, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

_That’s exactly what I’m worried about_ , the Doctor thought fiercely, gritting her teeth.

“It’s ok,” she felt the hand return, resting against her shoulder and running a tender thumb against her collarbone. 

Once again, she pushed the hand away, swallowing back the sob that rose in her throat.

This time, it seemed, Yaz got the message. The Doctor heard her quiet “oh” and then felt the mattress shift as the younger woman shrunk away from her. The space between them was cold and tense, an icy gulf that separating them.

She remembered how it had felt before, stuck beyond an impassable wall, left behind, alone again. Could she do it? Could she put Yaz through that? 

_I’m protecting her._  

Even as she thought it, she heard the quiet snuffles behind her, felt the slight quiver of the mattress, and knew that Yaz was crying.

_I’m protecting her_.

She repeated the mantra over and over, blocking out the sound, burying her face into the pillow, her own tears falling silently, unseen.

***** TO BE CONTINUED *****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, but you did want angst?
> 
> Completely cathartic chapter for me - long and lonely week. But just like the story, I'm sure things will pick up soon. As ever, many thanks for continuing to read along with me :) Phantom x


	29. Coming Up for Air

 

The Doctor slept fitfully. Normally she wouldn’t have slept much at all, but the alternative was lying awake in Gwen’s dark living-room, feeling her heart break a little more with every small sob that escaped Yaz’s pillow. So, she slept, and her dreams were vivid tableaus of stalking black shadows and giant creatures tangled in fairy lights; dark pools of water that wrapped around her ankles; Yaz’s strangled screams from high up in a tree canopy. They sounded so real, echoing around the leafy grove, the Doctor could have sworn they were real.

“ _Nooooooooo_!”

The timelord blinked open tired eyes, _hang on_ , she thought _, they are real_.

Rolling over she saw that Yaz was caught in the throes of a nightmare. Her face shone with tears in the half-light, and while her lower body seemed paralysed with fear, her hands clawed at her face as she cried out. 

“ _Pleassseeee, help!”_

The Doctor acted on instinct, all previous thoughts forgotten for the moment. In a second she was there beside Yaz, gathering the younger woman up in her arms and pulling her close.

“Shhh, it’s ok, it’s ok,” she muttered softly, “I’ve got you.”

As she spoke, she ran a hand comfortingly up and down Yaz’s back, trying to smooth out the rough fabric of the nightmare.

“You’re ok, I’m here…”

She could feel the heartbeat pounding against her chest and the dampness of tears against her skin where the young officer’s head nestled. As the sobbing began to settle, she felt Yaz’s breathing come easier, heart-rate slowing to match the steady double-beats of her own. She was still asleep, but the Doctor didn’t want to let go just yet, telling herself that the bad dreams might still be lurking, ready to pounce again. 

So, she held her, resting her chin on top of the dark curls, feeling warm for the first time since the incident. She had forgotten how good it felt to have Yaz curled up against her.

She sighed heavily, casting her eyes at the ceiling, “What am I doing?" 

Her question went unanswered, lost in the darkness. She could still feel the grief and anger of her earlier decision, but the feeling of Yaz in her arms was making her head spin.

 _Maybe if I just rest here for a second_ , she thought, settling them both down against the pillow, _I just need a moment to think._

As the moment stretched into minutes, she stopped fighting the heaviness of her tired eyes, and sank into sleep, wrapped warmly around Yaz.

* * *

As early morning light filtered in past the curtains, the Doctor stirred, smiling briefly at the warm weight pressed against her. Drawing in a contented breath, she pressed her nose into the dark hair tickling her chin, inhaling the apple-scent of Gwen’s borrowed shampoo. Her hand idly traced lines up and down Yaz’s back, connecting up the stars on the fabric, drawing tiny constellations. She felt so small without her leather jacket, the cotton pyjamas drowning her slight frame. 

As she was musing, the Doctor’s fingers skated over the thicker padding of the bandages beneath.

“Oh,” her breath caught in her throat and her hand stilled instantly.

Yaz had broken ribs. Her fault. The smile fading from her face, she quietly withdrew her arms, sliding the brunette onto the pillow and edging away, cold nausea gnawing at her gut. The other side of the small mattress was cool, and the Doctor shivered miserably, wrapping her arms around her chest for warmth.

She dozed in and out of sleep until Rhys stirred, stumbling out the bedroom and towards the bathroom, answering nature’s morning call. Minutes later, Gwen followed suit, and the Doctor heard the electric hum of the shower. When the Welsh officer reappeared draped in a towel, she spotted the timelord and whispered in hushed tones.

“Bathroom’s free if you fancy a shower?” 

“Ta, might do,” the Doctor smiled back, gathering up one of the towels Gwen had lent them, casting her gaze briefly over Yaz’s sleeping form.

With a sigh she picked herself up and headed for the bathroom, hoping the water might clear her head a little. Shucking off her borrowed pyjamas, she stepped into the cubicle and turned her face towards the hot spray. The water pounded against skull and she stood there, feeling it wash away the hurt a little, ease the tension in her shoulder.

She reached around blindly for the shampoo, wondering idly if it was the same one Yaz had been using. Smiling slightly, she remembered the soft scent of her hair, but even as did so, she saw in her mind’s eye that same hair, limp against the grey paving slab, its darkness contrasting the pale blue of Yaz’s lips.

She shuddered, pushing the image away, and turning the heat up so that her skin prickled in protest.

* * *

 

“Good morning, gorgeous,” Jack greeted her with a wink as the Doctor stepped in past the rolling cog of the Hub’s entrance, “another late night with Officer Khan was it?”

She looked up at him, feeling dazed. After her shower she’d gotten dressed and slipped out of the flat before Yaz had awoken. She’d had to get out of there, go for a walk, a run, anything that would give her the space to mull things over. Naturally, her feet had led her here, her subconscious knowing what she needed.

The Hub was quiet in the early morning light, the rest of the team still at their various homes, the work-day not yet begun. She’d known the American would be here, he had nowhere else to go.

Jack saw her face and his easy smile shifted into a frown, “Ok, what’s wrong?” 

She shrugged, not looking at him. 

He was having none of it. Pushing her down into a chair, he pushed a coffee in her direction, sat down opposite and waited.

“I can’t be with Yaz.”

Jack furrowed his brow, but said nothing, waiting for her to elaborate.

“She nearly died yesterday and it’s my fault,” the Doctor muttered flatly, shoulder slumping, “I can’t put her in danger like that – it’s time I took her home. She’s better off without me.”

The Captain said nothing, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow in her direction.

“Oh, don’t give me that,” the Doctor was annoyed and confused, “You know what it’s like out there – you’ve seen it. You’ve died so many times – all because of me, all my fault. But Yaz can’t just come back like you, if she dies that’s it – no more Yaz. And I am _not_ having that – she deserves better, so much better than me, she deserves all the good things this universe has to offer… and I’m not one of them.”

Jack rolled his eyes and shook his head disbelievingly.

“What?” she could feel anger and frustration rising in her, “I can’t keep her safe, Jack! I promised I would keep her safe, then I lead her straight into danger and she almost died, alone, scared, and so far from home. D’you think just because I love her, she’ll be ok? D’you think that’ll protect her? Because it can’t – I can’t – and she’s better off without me.”

“That’s what you think?” Jack tilted his head, “Seriously, that’s what you’ve been mulling over since yesterday?" 

The Doctor stared back at him, blinking – had he not heard what she’d said?

“What?” she repeated herself, her voice squeaking.

“Yesterday wasn’t your fault,” he said simply, “that glove – the Grief Gauntlet as Ianto’s been calling it – was the problem. It was the responsible for killing all those people.”

The timelord looked at him, face scrunched in confusion.

“Yeah, Tosh has been looking into it – she tested a sample of the water from Yaz’s incident and ran it against the other ones we’ve got. Filled to the brim with bioluminescent life-forms. It must’ve been in the harbour all this time until something activated it and all those tiny creatures, causing them to act as some sort of extension. They’ve been travelling through the city’s waterworks and living off people’s life-energy – effectively drowning them. Yaz was just unlucky enough to have picked up the gauntlet. Wrong place, wrong time.”

The Doctor’s eyebrows rose as Jack explained but dropped into a frown again when he mentioned Yaz.

“But that’s exactly what I’m saying – if it wasn’t for me, she wouldn’t be here in the first place?”

“But that’s just it – she’s alive now _because_ of you, not despite it. Don’t you see?” Jack groaned in frustration, rolling his eyes again, “If it weren’t for you, we might have stopped the CPR, and later, that kiss, the time-energy, your energy – that’s what saved her life. You saved her, Doctor – you. All those other people died – in the woods, in their homes, in the streets? Because you weren’t there.”

“But I can’t be there all the time –” she started again, confused.

“I know that,” Jack sighed, remembering Estelle, who had died cold and alone, “but you can be there for Yaz.” 

“But –”

“No buts, Doc,” he smiled softly at her, “if you think for one second that she’d be better off back home, settling parking disputes, knowing what’s out there – knowing you’re out there all alone – then you’re a fool.”

An image flashed through the Doctor’s head.

_The old man in the little café with his red hat askew, looking past her and out of the dusty window at the red-haired woman._

_“Then sometimes I see this look on her face, like she’s so sad, but she can’t remember why… she’s making do.”_

_“Aren’t we all?” she had replied._

Jack placed a warm hand over hers, interrupting her thoughts, “I’ve spent enough time with both of you over the last few days to know that the two of you have something and it’s worth saving.”

The Doctor opened her mouth, lip wobbling slightly.

“I’m not saying it’s not dangerous out there – we both know what’s waiting in the darkness,” Jack forestalled her, “but you’ve got to trust that Yaz knows what she signed up for. That girl can hold her own and she’s certainly not scared, quite the ball-buster if you ask me – so what are you so afraid of, Doctor?”

“Losing her,” she said simply.

Jack smiled at her and squeezed her hand. 

“Then be with her. Be brave. Stop fighting it.”

And it was as if those words were all she had been waiting for. Why was she fighting this? Yaz was the best thing to happen to her in such a long time - maybe Jack was right, maybe it was her turn to face her fears. With these thoughts, the weight on her shoulders seemed to become lighter and lighter until it lifted away altogether, pulling her mouth up into a smile as it did so. 

“… and there’s my Doctor,” Jack grinned back, seeing the faint twinkle return to her eyes.

He pulled her into a tight hug, feeling her return it with a newfound energy.

Pressing his mouth to her ear, he whispered “Now, go get your girl.”  

She nodded, pulling back and turning around to head back out of the Hub. She froze mid-step when she glanced ahead and saw –

“Yaz?” her mouth fell open, “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough.”

The Doctor swivelled, looking from Yaz to Jack and back again. She was lost for words.

“Yeah, I think we need to have a chat – don’t you?”

Swallowing hard, the timelord looked back at Jack, who nodded almost imperceptibly.

“Good idea, yeah, love a chat, who doesn’t?” she babbled, her face pale.

Yaz looked back at her, unreadable in the shadows.

“I’ll be waiting for you in the TARDIS,” she said, her voice loud in the silence. 

And with the mechanical clunk of the door echoing around the Hub, she was gone.

The Doctor turned back to Jack again, pulling a face “Ok, how bad was that?”

Smirking slightly, he hugged her once again, “Goodbye, Doc, it’s been nice knowing you.”

She hugged him back, “Bad?” 

“On a scale of one to Owen without his morning coffee?” he grinned into her hair, “I’d say you can expect at least three insults before breakfast.” 

The Doctor looked at him, panic written all over her face.

He smiled warmly back as he released her from the embrace, smoothing fond hands over her shoulders.

“Thanks for everything, Doc, and I’m sure we’ll be seeing you soon,” he nodded, walking her over to the Hub lift and nudging her onto it, “and remember Torchwood’s got your back.”

As the lift rose, taking the Doctor with it, she heard his gleeful shout from far below.

“Now, GO GET YOUR GIRL!” 

***** TO BE CONTINUED *****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are on the up - thanks for sticking with this through all the angst. Your patience and loyalty will be rewarded in future chapters.
> 
> Sorry for such a late update, I had to cover an on-call shift yesterday and after a 69h and too many deaths, I didn't have the energy for anything much until my one day off, today! As ever, travel hopefully. Phantom


	30. Communication Breakdown

The Doctor ran across the paving-stones of the Plass, the light, misting rain of the Cardiff air cooling her burning cheeks. She slowed as she approached the TARDIS, eventually coming to a stop just before its doors.

“Right, chat with Yaz, no problem,” she panted slightly, puffing out her cheeks.

She leant forward and placed one hand against the blue wood, making no attempt to push the door open.

“It’s just chat,” she reprimanded herself, frowning, but not moving.

She withdrew her hand and shook it as though to force some action into it. Placing her hands on her hips in a superman-pose, she scrunched her face up, eyeing the TARDIS doors as though she were staring down a viper.

“Come on,” her voice was a frustrated murmur, “this is Yaz, you can talk to Yaz.”

She pressed both palms against the doors and steadied herself, before taking a few steps backwards and swinging her arms in preparation, muttering to herself.

“Best take it at a run? Yeah, good plan – never failed me yet.”

And with that she took a few lolloping steps and hurled herself at the ship, crashing through the doors and tumbling up the steps, in chaotic jumble of nerves. As she began picking herself up from the floor, she looked around, immediately spotting Yaz who was perched cross-legged on the purple sofa with a cup of tea in her hands, watching her. She wore a strange expression, a mixture of hurt, anger, and repressed mirth.

“I… uh…” the Doctor stood, dusting herself down and looking awkwardly about.

Yaz said nothing, but tilted her head slightly, indicating the space on the sofa next to her.

The Doctor swallowed hard, bowing her head slightly as she walked over and sat down. Pulling her legs up under her, she curled against the cushioned arm, leaving a sizeable gap between her and the young officer.

“I’m not going to bite,” Yaz rolled her eyes, sliding a cup of tea over to the timelord.

The Doctor met her eyes and the two of them exchanged a small smile, before Yaz’s face fell back into a confused frown. 

“So?”

“So…”

Why was this so hard? Speechless wasn’t a term the Doctor would ever have used to describe herself, so why was she so constantly tongue-tied around this woman? 

“Why did you push me away?” Yaz was sitting up straight and fixing her with those deep chocolate eyes, pinning her in place.

There would be no gentle chit-chat here, she wanted answers and was going straight for the jugular, the Doctor realised.

“Um… how much of what I said to Jack did you –”

“That doesn’t matter,” Yaz returned, eyes unwavering, “just tell me, in your own words – why did you push me away, Doctor?”

“I… well…” the timelord struggled for words.

“Because before that glove thing tried to drown me, we were getting pretty close – you do remember what we did on Gwen’s sofa-bed, right?”

The Doctor blushed furiously, skin tingling under the brunette’s gaze.

“Yeah, course – it was –”

“Then when I came around in that medical bay, I remember you were there, you were holding my hand.”

The Doctor nodded.

“But when Owen had finished checking me over, I turned around and you were gone. Jack told me later he found you showering in your clothes?” Yaz raised an eyebrow.

“I can –" 

“Then we’re allowed to go back to Gwen’s and you won’t touch me – you barely look at me. I’ve been to hell and back and you just shrug me off?”

The anger in Yaz’s voice was rising, and the Doctor closed her mouth, unable to venture a reply.

“And when I wake up in the morning, you’re gone. But I followed you – you ran to him, because of course where else would you go?”

She was leaning forwards now, hurt written in the tight lines of her face. 

“But –”

“But nothing. You won’t talk to me, but Jack? What’s so special about Jack? Why him?” her voice cracked with emotion, and she wiped away a bitter tear.

“Yaz, I can ex–” 

The young officer shook her head, her mouth twisting into an ugly grimace as she mimicked the Doctor’s words.

“ _I can’t be with Yaz… it’s time I took her home_.” 

The Doctor stared, open mouthed.

“When were you gonna tell me this? Don’t I deserve to know if you’re just planning on seducing me then dropping me like it’s nothing?” her nostrils flared furiously. “Because that’s really shitty, Doctor. And if you want to run off with Captain America, tell him all your deepest darkest secrets, well that’s great, but don’t expect me to hang around waiting for you.”

And suddenly she was rising up from the sofa, turning her face away.

“Yaz!” the Doctor was on her feet in an instant.

“Look, it’s ok,” she said facing away, her voice and shoulders slumping wearily, “you can go back to him if that’s what you want, but would you do the courtesy of dropping me off home first?”

“Yaz, listen to me, I don’t want that!” the Doctor was walking across the room, hearts thudding a panicked rhythm.

“Of course you do – you want Jack,” she sounded defeated.

The Doctor stopped where she stood, a few metres away from the console, shaking her head in wonderment.

“Yaz, would you just listen?” her face scrunched up in earnest confusion, “Jack’s my friend – we’ve been through a lot, but he’s my _friend_.”

“Yeah?” her voice was bitter. “So why would you tell him this stuff and not me?” 

“I –” 

“Is it because he’s a better listener?”

“No –”

“Or is it those hugs he gives you – is that what you want? To be in his arms?”

“That’s not –”

“Are you in love with him or something?”

“IT’S NOT JACK THAT I’M IN LOVE WITH!”

The Doctor didn’t know why she was shouting, but she closed her mouth, stunned. Yaz seemed to have frozen in place, her shoulders rigid and her hands hovering in mid-air as they reached out to wipe another tear away.

Silence stretched between them, fizzing with tension, the background noises of the TARDIS echoing around the console room.

“It’s not Jack that I’m in love with,” the Doctor repeated, voice calmer than she felt, “but he knows me, and I needed a sounding board.”

She stared at the back of Yaz’s leather jacket and took a deep breath before continuing.

“I thought it was my fault – what happened to you. I should never have left you – I should have been there – maybe I could have stopped it. When I saw you there on the pavement, I felt sick,” she gulped down a wave of nausea that rose at the memory.

“The rest of it’s a bit of a blur – I can just remember tubes and machines. Owen did his best, but I was so scared – terrified that it wasn’t enough, that I’d lost you and…” she broke off, breathing slowly and blinking back the tears that threatened.

“…and then you were back, but you weren’t. You were just lying there, breathing, but nothing else. I kept thinking, how do I explain this to the boys, to your parents?” the Doctor swallowed hard. “There were so many things I wished I’d said to you, that we’d done and seen together...”

“I remember…”

The Doctor started slightly as Yaz spoke, her voice sounding strange and distant.

“You do?”

“You said something about stars and chips?” the younger woman turned slowly, raising her fingers to her lips, frowning with the effort of remembrance, “and then you kissed me.” 

“Yeah,” the Doctor nodded slowly, eyebrows still knitted with worry, “Jack said that it might –”

Yaz’s face changed again and she threw her hands in the air with frustration, “Oh, well if Jack said it…” 

“No, it wasn’t like that!” the timelord rand both hands through her hair, clasping them behind her neck, feeling wretched. Why was everything she said coming out wrong?

Yaz was watching her, arms crossed, waiting for an explanation.

“So, what was it like, then? You tell me, because that seems to be the last time you could bear to touch me,” the hardness had returned to her voice, grating and harsh.

“That glove,” the Doctor pressed on, trying to ignore how her stomach sank with every new bitter expression that came her way, “it hadn’t just tried to drown you – it drained you. We got you back, but you weren’t back. Then Jack reminded me of a similar time – how Rose saved his life – how he can’t die. He thought if we could somehow transfer some of that to you, it would bring you back to us, to me.”

“Transfer?”

“Yeah, that’s what I said,” the timelord nodded earnestly at her, “but it was just a finger-prick. Then we needed my energy, the TARDIS’ energy to activate it… and, well, it worked.”

Yaz drew in a deep breath, considering, “Ok, fine, so you got me back – but that doesn’t explain why you were suddenly ghosting me.”

The Doctor frowned, “I don’t remember any ghosts.”

Despite herself, Yaz huffed a small snort of amusement, “I’ll explain later, Bill Murray” then an instant later her face was serious again, “I’ll rephrase it – why did you abandon me?”

Face falling again, the timelord shuffled her feet, “Look, it was like I said, I thought I’d lost you and that it was all my fault.”

She looked at Yaz, sad hazel eyes trying to convey the churning emotions that her words seemed unable to express.

“We’d gotten you back, but I was still in shock – you know how many companions I’ve lost over the years, it never gets any easier. But with you… well, I don’t think I could go through that again,” the Doctor dropped her hands to her sides, letting them swing loosely. 

“I was grieving - I know that sounds daft, but it felt like a part of me had died with you. I was so angry with myself for leaving you, and I thought it would be best – that you’d be better off – without me in the future. If I stopped leading you into danger, you wouldn’t get hurt. So, I pushed you away – I knew you wouldn’t want to leave, but I had no choice, and if I could protect you, you’d better believe I’d do anything. I’d do it for you, Yaz.” 

Her words hung in the air, weighty and intense.

“You thought it would be for the best?” Yaz repeated slowly, narrowing her eyes at the timelord, “Who on Earth for?”

“For you?” the Doctor replied, her voice small.

“But what about you?”

“I’m not the one that nearly died,” the blonde pointed out.

Sighing heavily, Yaz pushed her hands into her pockets and stepped forward slightly. 

“First of all, you can’t just go deciding what’s best for me – don’t I deserve a choice in this? Jack’s right you know, I’m made of sterner stuff and it’ll take more than some stupid death glove to finish me off.”

She stepped forwards again.

“Secondly, I’m in danger whether you’re there or not – you can’t protect me all the time. I may have only been in charge of parking tickets back in Sheffield, but that doesn’t mean I don’t get a tonne of flack for the colour of my skin every Saturday night. You can drop me home, but that doesn’t mean I’m safe. I’m definitely better off with you.”

Another step forward. 

“Lastly, why don’t you care what’s best for you?” she fixed the Doctor with sad eyes. “Why are your feelings so dispensable. I thought we had something real, but you’re just willing to throw it away to protect me – don’t you care how it makes you feel?” 

“Of course I do,” the Doctor’s voice cracked with emotion, “but we can’t always have what we want – not if it puts other people at risk.”

Yaz stepped forwards one last time, moving into the blonde’s space, an arm’s reach away. 

“What _do_ you want, Doctor?” her voice low, cut with a barely detectable tremor.

The timelord felt suddenly weary, tired of fighting, tired of feeling like this. She sighed deeply, closing her eyes briefly before blinking up into Yaz’s gaze.

“You,” she said simply.

And as she watched, the serious expression on the younger woman’s face seemed to melt away in slow-motion, her lips turning upwards in an irresistible smile that seemed to light up her face. 

“Then stop moping and kiss me, you absolute muppet,” Yaz grinned at her.

***** TO BE CONTINUED *****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I hope that's a bit better? Looks like we're back on the straight and narrow, at least for now?
> 
> Thank you all for your kind words and good thoughts you've been sending my way. Things have been looking up - I've got a few more days off this month (even if the next 3 days are a week's worth of hours in on-calls), and I've been doing a lot of grinning like a loon recently, so yes, things may be on the up. As always, thanks for reading! Phantom x


	31. Tea at Yaz's

“Huh?” the Doctor looked at Yaz, blinking in confusion at the sudden turn of events, “But –”

Yaz grinned at her, stepping closer still and slipping her hands around the timelord’s waist.

“Oh, just come here…”

So saying, she pulled the Doctor to her and closed the gap between them.

After an initial squeak of surprise, the timelord soon relaxed into the kiss, Yaz’s mouth warm and knowing against her own. She felt dip and slide of their lips together, the sensation all at once brand new and wonderfully familiar. This was how it always felt when they kissed, she realised – the heat and excitement of the first time simultaneously as though they had been doing this their whole lives. 

She never wanted this to stop. It was as though the past few days had never happened, and it was just the two of them again. Standing there and kissing Yaz – it felt like coming home. 

The Doctor brought her hands up to wrap them around the younger woman’s neck, pulling her down and deepening the kiss, wanting to lose herself in it. She felt Yaz respond, gripping her waist more tightly, her tongue pushing past the timelord’s lips, mapping the curves of her mouth. Closing her eyes against the exquisite heat of the sensation, she pushed back, crushing their noses together and pressing her chest to Yaz’s, though being mindful of her bandaged ribs. 

She needed this, to feel this closeness and banish any memory of the gulf she had struck between them. The connection between them was almost palpable, a magnetic pulse that wound around them, tugging them back together the more they pulled apart. It was as though they had been hurtling through space as two separate entities, and now they had entered this strange new orbit. They were being tugged closer and closer in, burning up with the inescapable pull of each other.

The Doctor felt it now in the way her and Yaz’s hands were scrabbling for purchase, scrunched in clothing and hair, mouths and tongues hot and all consuming, trying desperately to meld themselves into one perfect creation.

“Wow,” Yaz panted, tugging her lip from between the Doctor’s teeth, coming up for air.

“Yeah… blimey…” the blonde murmured back, her mouth tingling with sensation.

As one they leant together, foreheads touching, breathing damply against the other’s cheeks. 

“Remind me to fall out with you more often,” Yaz at last chuckled, thumbs stroking the timelord’s cheeks fondly.

“You should fall out with me more often,” the Doctor grinned back, her own fingers toying with the wisps of hair at the nape of the brunette’s neck.

Yaz snorted, “Seriously, Doc, never again. If you ever try, I’m not sure I can be responsible for my actions.”

The Doctor felt her smile dip a little as she caught the half-serious jibe, “I’m sorry – never again, you’ve got my word.” 

Yaz sighed, moving her head slightly to press a kiss onto the tip of her nose, “I forgive you.”

A smile spread across the Doctor’s face and she rubbed her nose gently against the younger woman’s, acknowledging this last stone sliding into place, their bridge rebuilt. 

“Doctor,”

Drawing back, she met Yaz’s gaze with a smile.

“Can you take me home?”

The smile dropped from the Doctor’s face and that familiar, cold dread was suddenly washing over her. 

“What?” she blinked in panic, “But I thought we –”

Yaz rolled her eyes with an adoring smirk, “Not like that, you daft sod,” she slipped her hands around the Doctor’s waist again, stopping her from bolting, “but I do miss them – brush with death does that to a person – so could we just pop by for tea?”

“Oh,” the Doctor visibly relaxed, running an embarrassed hand through her hair, “right, yeah, ‘course!”

She paused, her smile returning, and raised a hopeful eyebrow, “Does this mean we’re having tea at Yaz’s again?” 

The brunette’s laughter echoed around the TARDIS.

* * *

“Doctor, will you stay still? My mum’s gonna think you’ve got a nervous twitch,” Yaz chided lightly, as they stood outside her front door, bending down to locate the spare key under the mat.

“Sorry, I was just thinking - I should have brought something - people bring things don’t they - when they visit – and I’m visiting again, and this will be the second time I’ve not brought something – unless you count bringing you home – I mean you’re a kinda gift, right?” 

“… and breathe,” Yaz smirked, giving her hand a quick squeeze, “You’re really nervous, aren’t you?”

“It’s your mum, Yaz – your mother – and last time we were here…” the Doctor trailed off, shuffling her feet and biting her lip.

“The last time we were here you saved us all from a spidery fate-worse-than-death.” 

“Mmm,” the Doctor nodded, her brow still wrinkled, “but then your mum asked –”

“Oh, _that_ ,” Yaz at last cottoned on, “when she thought we were…”

“Yeah…”

Yaz opened her mouth to reply and closed it.

“So,” the Doctor pushed, still staring at her feet, “are we?”

She heard Yaz clear her throat, a reply hovering on her lips, and then –

“Well are you two going to come in, or are you planning on standing there gassing all day?”

The Doctor’s eyes slid up from the ground, taking in the skinny black jeans and light blue blouse of the figure standing in the now open doorway.

“We’re coming in, Mum,” Yaz sighed, meeting the Doctor’s eyes and casting her a look that said ‘later’.

* * *

“So,” Najia smiled, placing steaming cups of tea in front of them both, “what have you been up to for the last few days? And what happened to your ribs and your shoulder?” 

The Doctor and Yaz glanced at each other, guiltily.

“A few days?”

“Yes, a few days – have you hit your head too?” Najia looked at her daughter in some concern.

“No,” Yaz replied hurriedly, shaking her head, “Sorry, it just feels like a lot longer.”

Her mum raised an eyebrow, “Hmm, we’ll come back to that,” she fixed them both with a look, “but first you can tell me how you’ve both been injured.”

She sat back in her chair and raised her own cup to her mouth, waiting. 

“Uh…” Yaz stalled, looking to the timelord for assistance.

The Doctor shrugged helplessly, her mouth full of biscuits, tell-tale crumbs stuck to her chin. 

Yaz shook her head and sighed, thinking of dinosaurs and sprained ankles, of Sherlock Holmes and gunshot-wounds, and of drowning over a decade ago in Cardiff.

“Ok, Mum,” she wrapped her hands around her mug and met her mother’s gaze, “You remember when we were here before and the Doctor helped us sort out that spider problem at your hotel?" 

Najia nodded, “Of course – it’ll take more than a weekend to forget that!”

“Well,” Yaz continued, “You see, we’ve been kinda doing that while we travel, me and the Doctor, that is.”

“You mean there’s more huge insects roaming the country?”

“Not exactly,” Yaz scrunched up her eyes, trying to find the right words to explain, “not insects, more like… aliens?”

“Aliens?”

“Yaz’s Mum,” the Doctor interrupted, accidentally spraying a mist of biscuit crumbs across the table, “I think what Yaz is saying is that we’ve got a bit of explaining to do.”

“You can say that again,” Najia said, brushing crumbs from her blouse. “Now who’s going to tell me what’s going on?”

Underneath the table, Yaz felt the Doctor’s ankle brush against hers and she smiled.

“Right,” she began, sitting up straighter, “so, first off, aliens…”

* * *

“Well, that could’ve gone worse,” the Doctor whispered across the table.

“Yeah, I s’ppose,” Yaz leaned back in her chair, running her hands through her hair.

Najia had popped into the kitchen under the guise of making another pot of tea. Her daughter suspected that she was using it as an excuse to process the explanation they had just given her.

“D’ya reckon she believes us?” 

“I don’t know, Doc,” 

She dropped her hands to her side and felt a small, warm one seek hers out, giving it a squeeze.

“I reckon she thinks it sounds so completely mad, it’s got to be the truth,” Najia said, returning with another tray of tea and biscuits.

The Doctor dropped Yaz’s hand under the table.

“It certainly does explain a lot,” she sighed, sitting down and pushing the second plate of biscuits in the timelord’s direction, “but I’ve still got a lot of questions.”

“Of ‘ourse ‘ou ‘ave,” the Doctor mumbled before swallowing her mouthful of Garibaldis, “Sorry, I meant –”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Najia smiled at her, “and thank you for all you’ve done to keep my Yasmin safe.”

Avoiding looking at Yaz, the Doctor swallowed again, “Well, I try,” she said softly.

“I know, and I also know how head-strong my daughter can be,” Najia raised an eyebrow in Yaz’s direction, “so I don’t imagine it’s an easy task.”

The Doctor could feel Yaz rolling her eyes, and grinned, “I think we’re both as bad as each other, to be honest.”

Najia smiled, watching the two of them, “Yes, I’d say you probably are.”

Tilting her head to one side, she focused her attention on the blonde, “My first question though, Doctor, is what exactly are your intentions towards my daughter?”

The timelord instantly flushed a deep red and Yaz coughed on the tea she’d suddenly inhaled. 

“Umm…”

“ _M-um_!”

“It’s a simple question,” Najia raised an eyebrow at the pair.

“I… uh, well…” the Doctor stuttered, not daring to look at Yaz.

“You can’t just ask people stuff like that, Mum!” 

And then they were interrupted by a cheerful cheeping.

With a sigh, Najia picked up her mobile, “Hello, dear… yes… five-o’clock, but I thought?... yes… ok… fine, fine, I’ll be over soon… love you.”

“Well,” she sighed, hanging up, “it looks like you two are saved by the bell for now – that was your father, I thought we were meeting the Prices for a meal at six-thirty, but it turns out he’d arranged it earlier. Typical.”

“You’re going out?” Yaz blinked up at her.

“Some of us don’t have the luxury of a time-machine,” her mother smiled at her, “so I guess I’ll have to go and get ready. Sonya’s out at her friend’s tonight, so if you’re planning on staying,” she eyed the Doctor, “maybe we can resume this discussion tomorrow over breakfast?”

“Yes please, thank you,” the Doctor gushed, “I mean, that would be very kind, Yaz’s Mum.”

“I’ve told you, call me Najia, and don’t think I’ve forgotten about that question,” she replied, fixing the Doctor with one of her ‘this isn’t the end of the matter’ stares.

“Yes, Najia,” the Doctor replied, bobbing an odd bow in her direction.

“There’s some of your father’s pakoras in the fridge, if you’re hungry, or the takeaway leaflets are in the drawer if you’d rather,” Najia smiled at her daughter, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek, before she got up to leave the room.

On her way out, she turned once more, to call back, “Oh and if you are staying, you’ll be needing a sleeping bag and the roll-mat, won’t you? And door open, please, Yasmin.” 

After she’d left, the Doctor turned in some confusion to see Yaz’s head buried in her hands, groaning.

“What’s a roll-mat?”

Yaz looked up at her, face scarlet, “It’s something you use to sleep on when you go camping.” 

“Ooh, that sounds fun,” the Doctor grinned, delighted and completely oblivious to the intended message. “Now can we go and see your room? I’ve always wondered what it might be like.”

Yaz rolled her eyes and grinned back, “Yeah, sure, but no judging please – I haven’t redecorated in a while.” 

She led the Doctor down the short corridor and pushed the door open onto her bedroom, wincing as she suddenly remembered all the baby photos and girl-band posters. The timelord pushed past her, squeaking in excitement and amusement as she nosed her way around the bookshelves and walls, taking it all in.

Chuckling, Yaz left her to it, moving a pile of ironing from her bed and lying down to stare up at the glow-in-the-dark stars that were scattered across the ceiling. After a few minutes, she felt the mattress dip slightly and the warm weight of the Doctor pressed comfortably against her side. 

“Ok, so I have a lot of questions,” the timelord chuckled, wriggling onto one elbow to grin at Yaz.

“Oh god, of course you do,” the brunette laughed back, “Ok, fire away.”

“Well before I do that, just checking, but are we home alone?”

“Yeah Mum’s out with Dad and Sonya won’t be home tonight,” Yaz replied, looking up at her, “why?” 

“Because I’ve been wanting to do this ever since we got here,” the Doctor grinned wickedly, shrugging her coat off and bending over Yaz, pulling her into a searing kiss.

***** TO BE CONTINUED *****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kisses at the beginning and end of a chapter? I'm spoiling you :P
> 
> Thanks for your continued support of this work and the lovely comments - it makes it all worth it. On-calls were long and tiring, but I'm still here and I've got a few reasons to be smiling this week :) Phantom x


	32. A Sleepover

Yaz grinned against her mouth and pulled the Doctor down, savouring the weight of the warm body that pressed her down into the mattress. As her mind went blissfully blank, she let her hands wander. Feeling her way down past the timelord’s slim neck and blonde locks, her fingers began to trace the hard curves of her shoulder blades as they undulated with the Doctor’s twisting efforts to snog Yaz into next week.

Following this, she felt for the dip of her spine, hands resting briefly in the small of her back and pushing down. She felt the Doctor groan into her mouth as their hips pressed more closely together, heat radiating out from the point where they met.

Yaz smiled into the kiss, always amused at how easy it was to flip the Doctor from bumbling timelord to hot mess. It was as though she had a loose connection wired up inside that big intellect of hers, and the slightest nudge was enough to trigger a whole circuit of irrepressible desire.

That was what she loved most about the Doctor – that whatever she turned her attention to, she did so wholeheartedly and unashamedly. Right now, Yaz could feel the full force of that undivided attention on her, and her stomach coiled with the thrill of it.

Slipping her hands down further, she pushed them into back pockets of the navy trousers, giving the firm bottom beneath a squeeze. 

“Mmmm…” the Doctor hummed appreciatively into her mouth wriggling her hips against Yaz’s stomach. 

The brunette moaned back, feeling one hand tangle into her hair while another slid down to rest against her waist, fingers toying with the hem of her jumper. She jiggled her legs, trying to free first one, then the other. As she manoeuvred her body into a more comfortable position, the Doctor’s lower body fell snugly into the gap her legs left behind.

“Oh,” the blonde drew back in slight surprise, before shifting her hips and feeling the new friction, “ _oh_ …”

Yaz felt it too, as though the room was falling away around them, and the only thing she knew was the jolting heat, the delicious weight of the timelord between her legs.

“Doctor,” she said, aware of the tremble in her voice.

“Yeah, Yaz?” the answering voice was low and throaty, sending a shiver through her. 

The young officer swallowed hard, caught between the need to talk and the mounting desire to curl her legs around the timelord’s and pull those hips closer still.

“I think we shou- ” she started to say, trailing off as she felt a hot mouth on her neck.

“Mmmm?” the Doctor grinned knowingly against her skin as she suckled at her pulse-point.

“I - _ah_ …” Yaz closed her eyes and bit her lip as she felt teeth nip gently at her earlobe, “’s’not fair…”

She felt waves of tingling heat wash over her, lights flashing behind her eyelids as the Doctor grazed lips and teeth and tongue against her skin, blazing a trail of fire under her jaw and down to her collar bone. Yaz dug her fingers in, clutching hazily at the cotton-clad bum and pushing the timelord up against her, pelvises pressing tightly together.

“ _Graahh_ ,” the Doctor gave a low growl that vibrated against Yaz’s throat.

The fingers at her waist finally found their way below the woollen jumper and pushed it aside eagerly, slipping under the top beneath and finding the warm skin there. Yaz arched upwards, unconsciously baring herself open, wordlessly wanting more. The Doctor didn’t hesitate, but slid her hand upwards causing the younger woman to shiver as she traced the dip of her waist and skimmed beneath the lacy swell.

Yaz clutched at the Doctor, willing her on, her mind a warm fuzz as she lay beneath the warm weight and knowing hands. As the timelord’s fingers found the pebbled skin beneath her bra, she shifted her body, leaning her weight onto one side to free up more of the woman beneath her.

“Agh!” Yaz sucked in a breath as a bolt of pain ran through her.

The Doctor immediately jumped back in concern.

“You alright?”

“Yeah,” Yaz winced, rubbing her chest, “sorry, it’s just –”

“I forgot! I’m so sorry,” the Doctor sat up, backing away and looking aghast as she suddenly remembered the broken ribs.

“It’s ok, Doctor,” Yaz gave her a small smile and took her hand in her own, “honestly, I think you just leaned in the wrong place, I’m ok really.”

“No, it’s not,” the Doctor shook her head, frowning, “you should be resting, not having me jump you.”

“Well, I didn’t mind that bit so much,” Yaz grinned.

The Doctor ignored her, “That’s not the point,” she muttered, “I should know better…”

Yaz rolled her eyes, “Oh, we are not doing this again.”

The timelord frowned at her, “Doing what?” 

“This,” Yaz sighed, gesturing from her chest to the Doctor’s furrowed brow. “You running a mile every time there’s a chance of me being hurt.” 

“But you are hurt,” the timelord replied confusedly.

“Yeah but that’s not your fault – I’ve done my resus training and breaking ribs during CPR is pretty common,” Yaz fixed her with a sincere look. “Of course they need to heal, but you can still touch me, still hold me, so long as you’re careful.”

The timelord met her eyes but said nothing. 

“Unless,” Yaz filled the silence, worry creeping into her tone, “you don’t want to?” 

“I do, I do want to,” the Doctor exclaimed, eyes wide, “I just…” she trailed off, searching for the words. 

“You just what?”

The timelord settled down on the bed beside Yaz, resting against the pillow and staring up at the ceiling.

“It’s like I don’t know who I am when I’m with you,” she murmured, finding it easier to talk when she wasn’t looking directly at the young officer, “one minute we’re adventuring, and then you get horribly injured and I’d do anything to protect you, to keep you safe.”

She paused, thinking how to phrase the next line.

“Then you touch me,” she continued, “and it does something to me. It’s like everything else flies outta the window and… and...”

The Doctor paused again, before continuing quietly. 

“…and then all I can do is hold you and kiss you and wrap myself up in you. It’s intense and brilliant and totally amazin’ … but it terrifies me,” she admitted. “And it’s like there’s no in between – I’m either pushing you away or I’m pulling you as close as I can – and I don’t know to do anything else.”

The timelord exhaled deeply and stared up at the ceiling, the quietness of the room echoing around her. She closed her eyes and smiled when she felt a hand slip into her own and give it a gently squeeze.

“Ditto,” Yaz said simply.

The Doctor squeezed her hand back, running a thumb against the back of her knuckle and taking the moment in. The sun was setting, and it cast a warm glow around the room, the shadows lengthening and inching up to swallow them in the quiet twilight. For the first time in many days, a soft peace seemed to settle around them, allowing them room to breathe, to just be. For a few minutes they lay there, staring up at the half-glow of the plastic stars against the dark ceiling.

“It’s beautiful out there, you know,” the Doctor said softly, wonder coating her words, “the whole universe just waiting for us.”

Yaz turned her face to watch the blonde, wanting to see the smile that stretched to her eyes. 

“Tell me, Doctor.” 

Caught up in the memories of a thousand journeys, the timelord felt the words fall from her mouth with ease. 

“There’s this planet made entirely from clouds – like proper clouds, and everything’s so soft you feel like you’re floating. Then there’s Frug 93 – an entire space station populated and run by these tiny caterpillar creatures – they communicate with these gorgeous silky trails… Oh, and did I ever tell you about Lambda-Tor, where every night they light up the sea with hundreds of floating candles?”

“I love you too.” 

The Doctor felt her breath catch in her throat and her racing mind stumbled to a halt.

“Huh?”

“I said ‘I love you too’,” Yaz repeated slowly, shifting to lie on her side, watching the timelord with dark eyes.

“You…” the Doctor rolled over, mirroring her position, meeting her gaze.

“I suppose I’ve known for a while,” Yaz said, smiling softly, “and I thought you should too.”

“But I - I didn’t think…” 

“I remember you saying it when you thought I couldn’t hear you,” Yaz murmured, brushing her thumb against the timelord’s wrist.

“You did?”

“Yeah.” 

“But I was going to… I should have waited…” the Doctor protested, face scrunched in consternation.

Yaz’s smile dropped and her hand stilled, “Oh god, have I – did I just assume that – oh, shit.”

The Doctor frowned for a second, before her face shone in understanding and she urgently reached for Yaz’s hand “No, no, no – I meant it – of course I did! How could I not?” 

“Oh… oh, good,” the younger woman’s face split into a mad grin and she sighed with relief, “I just thought when you said you should have waited…?”

The Doctor closed her eyes briefly before fixing Yaz with a smile that melted her heart. 

“Can we start this again?”

“Yeah,” Yaz laughed softly, “I’d really like that.”

Leaning on one elbow, the Doctor gazed at Yaz in the twilight, the last rays of sunset bathing her face in a golden glow.

“You’re beautiful, Yasmin Khan,” she murmured, lacing their fingers together, “and for as long as you’ll have me, I’ll love you to the stars and back… which is a really long way, you’ll have to trust me on that one.”

Yaz laughed lightly even as she felt the tears prick the edges of her eyes, her heart skipping over and over at the knowledge that this woman, this fantastic time-travelling alien, had chosen her.

“You’re amazin’, Doctor,” she replied, her voice crackling with emotion, “and all I’ve wanted since we’ve met is more time with you. You’ve shown me all these mad things and brilliant people, but in amongst all of that you’re like this constant, beaming ray of light. In a thousand lifetimes I would fall for you over and over again – I’d be crazy not to…”

She paused, squeezing the hand in hers, “because you are the best person I’ve ever met, and I’ll love you as long as you let me.”

They continued to stare at each other, each swallowing dryly and feeling their hearts hammering.

“So, I guess we’re…?” the Doctor trailed off, trying to figure out the right words again.

“Seeing each other?”

“Dating?” 

“Girlfriends?”

“An item?”

“Together.” 

“Yeah, I’d like that,” she nodded at Yaz, smile twitching at the word, “together.”

For a moment they grinned at each other, and, with words no longer needed, gave in to the irresistible tug of their connection. 

They fell together, soft and warm, the shining bubble of a vulnerable new love cushioning them, as they moved sweetly against each other. In the darkness of this brave new world they glowed as they kissed and laughed and pressed together. Neither one noticed the golden sparks that leapt from the tips of Yaz’s fingers, dancing through the air to meet those of the timelord’s with a gently fizz. They had only eyes for each other.

As they moved, their hands fell automatically to the hems of shirts, and soon those same garments were strewn about the room. Yaz gently unclipped the Doctor’s braces and discarded them, their bras seeming to melt away under the gentle caresses. They continued to kiss, and pressed their naked chests together, the bandages around Yaz’s ribs a soft friction in their embrace.

“How does this feel so brilliant?” the Doctor murmured against the younger woman’s lips, her hands running up and down the smooth, bareness of Yaz’s back.

“You think too much,” Yaz smiled back, her own hands tangled in the timelord’s hair, “now shut up and kiss me.”

The Doctor grinned, pressing her mouth openly against Yaz’s, their tongues dancing together to some unknown rhythm. She pulled back after a minute or two, leaving both of them breathless and wanting.

“One thing, though?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you mind if we just kiss?” the Doctor breathed against her lips. 

Yaz drew back slightly to catch her eye, taken aback by the sweetness of the question, “Yeah, of course, you ok?”

“It’s your mum.” 

“My mum?” Yaz snorted in surprise, “please tell me you’re not imagining kissing her?”

“No!” the Doctor giggled, stroking her thumb against the soft curves of her waist, “It’s just that we’re in your house and she told us not to –”

“Seriously? You’re scared of her?”

“Well… kinda?”

Yaz laughed at the adorable way the Doctor’s face scrunched up when she was embarrassed.

“Ok, ok, you’re probably right,” she giggled, nudging the timelord’s nose with her own, “kissing and cuddling only.” 

The Doctor grinned back, relieved.

“That’s great, but just so you know…” she leant across to Yaz’s ear, taking the lobe gently between her teeth as she murmured against her skin, “… when we’re alone in the TARDIS again, there’ll be no holes barred…”

Yaz groaned lightly, biting her lip against the shiver that ran through her, “The phrase is ‘no _holds_ barred’, Doc.” 

“We’ll see,” the Doctor grinned, pressing her mouth firmly to Yaz’s again and pulling her close.

***** TO BE CONTINUED *****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh, well, we all know she's a bit rubbish with her proverbs and aphorisms.... ;)
> 
> I apologise for the lateness of the update - it's been a strange week and things have gone a little topsy-turvy. Some truly saddening work moments and on a personal level, I may be a little less smiley for the time. I think that's the problem with wearing a heart on my sleeve, but honestly, I don't know any other way to be. I'm sure there's a Yaz to my Thirteen out there somewhere? 
> 
> As always, love and hugs to you all, Phantom x


	33. Who Needs Sleep?

Yaz awoke first, the room still in half-darkness. It was still early, the pre-dawn light a gentle glow through the window, her curtains hanging neglected to one side. She yawned sleepily, wondering what had woken her, and then she realised.

The Doctor lay dozing in her arms, her back pressed into Yaz’s chest, blonde hair rumpled against her pillow, tickling her nose. She could feel the small huffs of breath that ghosted across her arm and the rise and fall of her own arm as it lay against the timelord’s chest. 

Yaz swallowed, it was a very naked chest. Then she heard it again, the mumbling groans that had awakened her.

“… _not quite… mm-haaa… more left…”_

It sounded like utter gibberish to the young officer, but it must have made sense to the Doctor, because when Yaz leant over to peer at her face, she was grinning in her sleep.

_“… nope… almost… yeah-heh…”_

The brunette shook her head, smirking.

“Even in your sleep you talk absolute nonsense,” Yaz smiled, settling down again on the pillow, talking quietly into the mess of blonde hair.

She gave the Doctor a comforting squeeze with her free arm, remembering too late the complete lack of a top and bra. As she moved, her wrist brushed over a small bump of nipple and the timelord’s sleepy ramblings changed tact.

“ _Yesssss… just there…”_

Yaz bit her lip, closing her eyes as a shiver ran through her. She froze, not daring to move, suddenly incredibly aware of their nakedness.

_“Yazzz…”_

She gulped as the Doctor half-whispered, half-moaned her name.

_“… nice… Yaztime…”_

As her heart hammered in her chest, Yaz found that her hand was moving of its own accord, palm pressing warmly to the soft jut of the Doctor’s ribcage. On autopilot, it began a torturous journey upwards, centimetres at a time, fingers seeking out the silken swells.

_“A… little… higher…”_

Yaz felt heat flood her face, spreading down to tingle across her own chest which was pressed tightly up against the Doctor’s bared back.

“ _Mmmm… nearly…”_

As her fingertips ghosted the base of those soft peaks, Yaz paused, shaking her head slightly. The tension was making her head spin, her breathing now shallow huffs of air dancing against the Doctor’s neck. She could feel goosebumps rising despite the heat pouring off their huddled bodies.

_“Please…”_

Of their own accord, her fingers slipped upwards, tracing concentric circles hazily across the warm breasts. As the rings grew tighter, she became aware of the sensitive skin hardening beneath her touch, becoming pebbled and taut. 

Then a hand wrapped around her wrist and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

“Shit!” she froze, breath hitching in her throat as she heard a low, throaty exclamation. 

“Shooting stars, Yasmin Khan, if you don’t touch me soon, I’m going to –”

Yaz blinked, “You’re… awake?”

“Well,” she could hear the Doctor’s lazy grin, “I was having a brilliant dream…” she twisted her head just enough to catch Yaz’s eye, “…then I woke up to find it was really happening, so...”

The young officer stared at her, still paralysed with surprise and indecision, “…so?”

“So,” the timelord grinned wickedly, “I believe your hand was here?”

She pressed Yaz’s open palm to her chest and released her wrist, letting her own hand fall to her side.

“I… uh… you were asleep, and I didn’t mean to – but I shouldn’t have, I’m sorry,” Yaz whispered quietly, her hand not moving. 

Feeling the stillness in the palm against her chest, the Doctor twisted her head once again, meeting Yaz’s eyes.

“It’s ok,” she smiled up at her, hazel eyes sincere and warm, “I trust you and I know you’d never take advantage of me.”

Yaz nodded back at her, “Of course not. I was just trying to hug you and I completely forgot about…” she gulped, glancing down at their bare skin.

“Mmm” the Doctor murmured, wriggling her shoulders against Yaz and hearing her gasp, “Remind me why we don’t wake up like this more often?”

“I dunno,” Yaz replied, trying to control the strangled squeak in her voice, “though it’s probably because we get interrupted so much.” She grinned, flushing red as she thought of John and Gwen.

“Right,” the Doctor huffed a laugh, turning away again.

One hand found Yaz’s as it lay under the pillow beneath her head, the other crept back to rest against the younger woman’s thigh. 

“Now,” she arched forward slightly, pushing her chest into warm palm that still rested there, “where were we?”

Yaz groaned slightly, feeling the soft breast fill her hand, the hard nub pressing eagerly into the ridges between her fingers. She felt the Doctor squeeze her other hand, encouraging and consenting as she bared herself completely to the young officer. 

“I think…” she whispered, her throat feeling hot and raw, “…that we were here…”

And she began to move her left hand in small, deliberately slow circles. The Doctor’s reaction was instantaneous.

“ _Mmmpphhgghhh!_ ” she pressed her head back against Yaz’s shoulder and gave a low moan.

“…though maybe we were here?” the brunette grinned, whispering hotly into the timelord’s ear, as she moved her hand across to rub slowly against her other breast.

The Doctor groaned again, and Yaz smiled against her mussed hair. Growing in confidence, she flared her fingers slightly, allowing the hardened peak of a nipple to slide between them. As she moved her hand slowly up and down, luxuriating in the soft handful, she could feel the rosy tip hardening and tightening.

“ _Ohhh, wow…”_ the Doctor gripped her hand harder under the pillow, arching further and pressing her chest forwards, “ _…here is good…”_

Smirking, Yaz moved her hand back to the first breast, feeling the taut crest respond in kind, the sensitive nipple rolling between her spread fingers, aching and rock-hard. 

“Oh, _there_ is good too…” the Doctor half-whimpered, rolling her head and pushing into Yaz’s touch.

“What happened to ‘let’s just kiss and cuddle’?” Yaz grinned, moving her hand and drawing tantalising rings around the hot pebbled tip with the pad of one finger. 

“Well, it’s a sort- _aaaahhhh -_ cuddle,” the reply was punctuated with a breathy groan as the brunette gently pinched the sensitive bud between two fingers.

“I see,” Yaz murmured thoughtfully into the blonde hair, nudging it aside with her nose, exposing the flushed expanse of the Doctor’s neck, “so we’re just missing the kiss then?”

And she bent down, pressing a hot mouth to a soft spot just under the timelord’s jaw. 

“Yasmin Kh- _aaaaahhn –_ you –”

But whatever the Doctor had been meaning to say was cut off completely when Yaz’s teeth grazed the sensitive skin below her ear.

“Sorry, I didn’t quite get that?” the young officer grinned against the damp skin, nibbling at the exposed earlobe.

“I was s – _oh, Yaz_!”

Her name was a strangled groan on the Doctor’s lips as gentle fingers tugged at the aching nub of the other nipple.

Yaz huffed a laugh against the flushed neck, the warm breath sending a shiver through the Doctor. She felt the hand on her leg grip tightly, nails and fingertips digging in to her jeans.

“Are you having trouble concentrating?” Yaz asked innocently, rolling the throbbing bud between her thumb and forefinger.

“ _Nnnggghhh,”_ the Doctor’s mouth hung open as she panted her reply, body twisted to press as close to Yaz’s hands and lips as possible.

As a shiver ran through her, she wriggled helplessly against the young officer, and Yaz felt twin jolts of pleasure spark from her own chest as it rubbed against the heated skin of the Doctor’s back. 

Yaz pressed forwards, sandwiching the timelord more firmly between her hand and half-naked body, the double-thud of her hearts a thrilling background rhythm. As her tongue traced a wet path down from the Doctor’s ear and around her jaw, Yaz caught sight of the open mouth and it sparked an idea.

With one last gentle tug, she withdrew her fingers, tracing them slowly upwards, up the Doctor’s sternum and against the curve of her throat. The timelord’s whine of disapproval turned into low moan when Yaz placed two fingers against her bottom lip. After the initial surprise, the Doctor seemed to understand the unspoken request, and closed her mouth, sucking the fingers inside. 

“Oh, _Doctor_ …” it was Yaz’s turn to moan as she felt the damp heat of the Doctor’s tongue swirl around her fingers, drawing them in to the knuckle.

Yaz felt heat rush to her face as, unbidden, the memories of slipping into a different kind of slick heat flashed before her eyes. As the Doctor’s tongue danced over the length of her fingers, she felt that coiling heat behind her navel twist itself over and over. Swallowing dryly, she slowly withdrew her fingers, the suction marking their exit with a wet pop.

“ _Yaz,_ if you don’t touch me now, I’m going to combust…” the Doctor panted, open-mouthed and red-faced.

Shaking herself slightly, Yaz concentrated on the situation in hand, “I was rather hoping to help you… _combust_ …”

And as she paused to utter the last word, she slid her saliva-slick fingers back down to the hardened, aching crests of those velvety swells.

“ _OH, GODS!”_

As the Doctor cried out, she gripped the hand in hers tightly, while her other dug so hard into Yaz’s thigh she was sure it would leave bruises.

“If I haven’t said it before…” Yaz murmured hotly into her ear.

She pressed forwards, forcing the Doctor’s chest into her waiting hand. 

“…seeing you like this…”

Yaz twisted her wrist slightly, tugging gently at the slippery nipple before letting it go.

“…it does things to me…”

She ground her hips against the timelord’s bum, feeling the grip against her leg intensify. 

“ _Yazzzzz_ ,” the Doctor’s moan was almost incoherent as she became increasingly lost to the sensations bombarding her.

As Yaz allowed her fingers briefly to revisit that open, wet mouth, she gave only a few seconds for the eager tongue to coat her fingers, before once again returning to the throbbing tips the Doctor thrust forward into her palm.

Yaz responded in turn with a low, murmuring growl, dipping her head to suckle at the sensitive patch below her jawline. She could feel the Doctor arching and bucking against her, her breathy panting damp against her exposed forearm.

The cooler air of the room was wonderful against their hot skin, and she could only imagine the temperature difference it would make to the damp nipples as they pointed, hard and erect into the half-darkness. 

“ _Yaz… please!_ ” the two words permeated through the fog of hazy lust in Yaz’s mind, and she redoubled her efforts, knowing that the Doctor was close to the edge. 

She sucked the pale skin into her mouth, nipping and soothing it alternately with teeth and tongue. One hand gripped the Doctors’ hard, while the other continued its assault on her sensitive breasts.

Her fingers rolled, tugged, teased, and pinched the swollen tips, between flitting trips to the timelord’s wet mouth. They grew harder and firmer with every touch, straining against her palm, demanding the attention of her slick digits. 

“ _Oh…oh…oh…”_ the Doctor’s wordless moans fell from her lips, her head thrown back and eyes closed, hands clutching fingers and thigh.

Yaz surged forwards, feeling her chest slide against the blonde’s damp back, sparks of pleasure leaping from where her own breasts grazed maddeningly against naked skin. As her mouth trailed bruising kisses along the lines of the timelord’s neck, fingers dancing a torturous trajectory between the dips and peaks of her aching breasts.

“ _Pleasssssse!”_ the strangled groan echoed through Yaz, and she felt it in her very core.

Biting down on the skin over the Doctor’s collar bone, she flickered her fingers across one taut nipple, slippery and almost throbbing in her hands. 

Hot gasps filled the air, and Yaz could feel the timelord trembling under her touch, her fingers practically vibrating across the sensitive nubs. 

“ _Yaz… I’m… gonna…”_ the words were barely comprehensible as the Doctor quivered uncontrollably, nails digging in as her sanity slipped away.

The young officer groaned against her neck, lips sealed against the pulse that hammered against her mouth. Her fingers were lost in a blur of motion and she felt the timelord stiffen and buck against her, limbs stiff and back arching almost painfully as her senses exploded and she came loudly undone. 

Her broken cry echoed around them, stirring that primal need that strung them together. Yaz held her through the jerking movements that wracked her body, clinging to her as the cry shattered into a quieter keening. Eventually she seemed to settle, the jerks becoming twitches and eventually stilling into an boneless slump.

“You ok?” Yaz asked, nudging gently at the side of her neck with a warm nose.

The Doctor let her move their joined hands down, wrapping both arms around her middle and pulling her into a warm, damp hug.

“Yeah,” she breathed unevenly, voice hoarse, “how do you – how can – ”

Yaz grinned as she trailed off, recalling one of their earlier conversations on the TARDIS, “You’re not the only one who’s good with one hand.” 

She felt the Doctor’s snuffled laugh against her arms, and she pulled her closer, feeling suddenly exhausted. Yawning, she was aware of the timelord echoing her, and she tugged at the scattered covers, the chill of the morning now cooling their flushed skin.

Breathing in the faint scent of oil and metal of the Doctor’s hair, Yaz hugged her close and felt their bodies become heavy with sleep. She sighed, the tug of that ever-present coiling heat abating as tiredness overcame her. 

As the first light of dawn crept over the windowsill, it bathed the pair in blue-gold rays, dancing across entwined limbs and soft smiles. Lovers luminescent in their contentment.

* * *

The second time Yaz woke up, it was because a commotion seemed to be breaking out beyond her door. After a few hazy moments, she blinked the confusion from her eyes and listened.

Doors, plates, the hustle and bustle of voices. 

“Shit!”

She felt around and found the Doctor still sprawled, half-naked in her arms. 

“Double shit!”

Trying to shake the timelord awake, she was suddenly aware of a new noise outside her door.

There was nothing for it, and with a concerted effort, she withdrew her sleepy limbs from their warm hold and flung herself sideways off the bed and onto the floor.

“ _Gahhhh_ ,” she moaned into her arm, biting back the pain that rose from her bandaged ribs, and desperately scrabbling around for the sleeping bag. 

Painfully she forced her legs into the rumpled sack, grabbing a pillow from the bed and throwing herself onto it just in the nick of time.

The door creaked open and a face appeared above her, surveying the now brightly lit room.

“Good morning, Yasmin,” her mother spoke quietly, the timelord’s quiet snores in the background, “will you and the Doctor be ready for breakfast any time soon?”

Yaz stretched out her arms, giving her best impression of a good night’s sleep on the floor, “Yeah, give me a few minutes to wake this one up?”

Her mother raised an eyebrow, “Make it five – we need to have a talk.” 

And with that she left, leaving the door pointedly half-open. 

As Yaz sat up and searched around for her clothes, she caught sight of the Doctor.

“Oh, crap,” she felt her stomach sink.

The bare expanse of the Doctor’s back showed up the dark, red bruises on her neck with extraordinary clarity in the morning light. 

***** TO BE CONTINUED *****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did intend to write the breakfast scene, but this kinda ran away with me! But don't fear, more Najia chats soon! Anyway, I hope it was a nice weekend treat?
> 
> Thank you to everyone, as always, for kind words and advice. I treasure every comment - this fandom is filled with wonderful people. A few blips, but I'm trying to see the light, even if it's difficult at times. Much love to you all, Phantom x


	34. Family Breakfast

“Doctor… _Doctor_ – wake – up!” Yaz shook the timelord’s arm, as she hopped on one foot trying to wriggle into a new pair of jeans.

“Wasshappening?” the Doctor mumbled, rolling over sleepily, “Nicesnooze… nice-Yaztime…”

Eyes still closed she stretched her arms above her head, arching her back and uttering a crumpled moan. She was still very much topless, and Yaz quickly looked away, red-faced and biting her lip.

“No time for any more snoozing,” the young officer cleared her throat, “Mum said we have to join them for breakfast.”

The Doctor sat up, looking blearily around her, “Mmm, breakfast? What sort of breakfast? Can we have toast?”

Despite herself, Yaz chuckled, throwing the striped shirt, bra, and braces over to the timelord, “Yeah, I’m sure we can rustle up some toast.”

“Brilliant,” the Doctor smiled beatifically, pulling on her clothing in record time.

Hopping out of bed, she pinged her braces into place and stepped over to Yaz, who was watching her with soft eyes. 

“You want a comb for that mess you call hair?” the brunette grinned, reaching out to pluck gently at a stray lock.

“You’re lucky I like you, Yasmin Khan,” the Doctor raised a laughing eyebrow, reaching past Yaz for the comb on the desk behind her.

“You _like_ me?” Yaz smirked, watching as the timelord frowned with concentration as she tugged the plastic teeth through her ruffled hair. “What happened to ‘ _I’ll love you to the stars and back’_ ”

“Well that was before you called me a mess,” the Doctor sulked, her lips twitching into a smile.

“Well you’re my mess,” Yaz smiled, letting one hand come up to tug gently at the timelord’s mustard braces.

The Doctor’s face quirked into a wide grin, “Yes - yes, I am.”

Flinging the comb back onto the desk, she stepped forwards and swept Yaz into a hot kiss. The younger woman’s hands tugged harder at the braces, pulling the timelord closer, before burying her hands in blonde hair, deepening the kiss with a quiet moan.

The Doctor pressed forwards, forcing Yaz back until she was sandwiched between her and the wardrobe door. As their chests rubbed together, she swallowed down a groan, skin still hypersensitised and aching from earlier that morning. She bit Yaz’s lip gently, crushing their faces closer still, and slipping her hands under the hem of her shirt, needing to feel the skin beneath.

Yaz was lost, her vision hazy, the hard wood behind contrasting sharply with the soft, warm body pressed to her front, hands wandering haphazardly beneath her shirt. Their tongues twisted and danced together, and she shivered with sensation. Here she was, in her own bedroom, with this wonderful, hot woman kissing her, wanting her, making her fall over and over for her. It was her every lonely, repressed, teenaged dream come true.

“Huh-hmm…”

The knock on the half-open door shattered the dream and Yaz leapt back, whacking her head against the cupboard and launching the Doctor across the room and onto the bed.

“Yasmin, it’s at least five minute – are you coming for breakfast?”

As her mother’s face appeared around the door once more, she glanced at the Doctor’s newly-ruffled hair and at Yaz rubbing the back of her head.

She raised an eyebrow, “How about you find the Doctor a comb and then we can all sit down together?” 

As she disappeared, Yaz closed her eyes and groaned, leaning back against the wardrobe door again.

“Do you think she’ll still let us have toast?” the Doctor asked quietly, running one finger across her kiss-swollen lips.

* * *

“So… nice dinner last night?” Yaz pushed the leftover crumbs around her plate, hoping to draw out the idle chit-chat up long enough that her mother might forget the real reason she’d wanted to have ‘a talk’.

“Yes, it was great,” Hakim nodded back at her, enthusiastically, “I had the most delicious lamb tagine – apricots, coriander, and this wonderful creamy sauce – maybe I could make it for us all some time?” 

“Uh, sure?” Yaz creased up her face, trying for encouraging, but not able to easily forget some of her father’s most recent cooking experiments.

“What did you two have for dinner?” Najia raised an eyebrow, “I noticed your father’s pakoras remained untouched?” 

“Yeah, we weren’t really hungry in the end,” Yaz shrugged.

“Too busy nibbling something else?” Sonya muttered slyly, watching her sister with a wicked grin.

“What was that?” Najia turned to her, not missing the choking noise that Yaz made.

“SNACKS!” the Doctor shouted a little too loudly.

Four faces turned to look at her in surprise.

“We… were really busy nibbling on all the snacks we brought with us, right?”

Yaz cottoned on, trying to will away her flushed face, “Yeah, yeah – snacks – we had snacks.”

“You young people, all these snacks,” Hakim shook his head and rolled his eyes in his daughter’s direction. “Whatever happened to a good, healthy meal?”

“Sorry, Dad,” Yaz smiled back at him, “we just got a bit distracted – chatting and all. Completely forgot to get a proper dinner.”

“Too distracted to eat?” Sonya sat back in her chair, fixing Yaz with a smirk, “Must’ve been some _chat_.”

Yaz shot her sister a death stare and tried to kick her under the table.

“I love a good chat, me,” the timelord said cheerfully, not getting the reference, “Like this – this is ace, I love chatting with Yaz’s family.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Hakim nodded at her approvingly, “see, Yasmin, this is what I always say – you should have more friends over, I love meeting new people. And it’s so nice you still have sleepovers.”

“More like _sleep-unders_ …” Sonya muttered with a wink, delighting in the chance to tease her sister.

“Shut. Up.” Yaz whispered fiercely, her face red but her voice low and dangerous.

“What is wrong with you two?” their father frowned, looking between them, “Why must you always argue – and in front of our guest?”

“She started it,” Yaz protested.

“I never!”

“Gah, why are you such a child?”

“Takes one to know one!”

As the sisters fell to bickering, Hakim shrugged and reached for another piece of toast.

“I’m sorry Doctor, what can I say? My girls have always been hot-headed – but I’m sure you know that.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen glimpses,” the timelord grinned, thoroughly amused as she spread another slice of toast with jam, butter, and marmalade. “You’re surrounded on all sides by strong women, Mr Khan.” 

“Please,” he smiled, “call me Hakim.”

She nodded, and they exchanged a look as the fight reached its crescendo.

“… and what’s THAT got to do with me?”

“Because you’re the golden child! You can spend all night in your room _snogging_ and Mum won’t even leave me and Tarik in the same room together!”

“Too right I won’t.”

The room fell into silence as Najia finished the argument with four quiet words.

Sonya and Yaz looked around, slightly red, not realising how loud their verbal sparring had been. Out of the corner of her eye, Yaz saw the Doctor blush and tug self-consciously at the silk scarf that had been thrust around her neck before they had left her room.

Najia had sat and watched the conversation so far, quietly eating her toast and sipping her tea. Now she sat forwards, looking around at them all; she took in Hakim’s surprise, Sonya’s amused injustice, Yaz’s furious embarrassment, and the Doctor’s flushed panic.

After a moment, she poured herself another cup from the teapot and sat back again, fixing her eyes on her eldest daughter.

“Well?”

Yaz stared back at her, feeling her face redden. Her mouth hung open as her frazzled mind searched frantically for something – anything – to say.

“I – I –” she mumbled, feeling her sister’s gleeful gaze upon her.

Beneath the table, she felt a small warm hand come to rest on her knee. 

“Team Khan – Yaz’s fam – maybe I should explain?”

Yaz wanted to hug her and throttle her at the same time. 

“Fam?” Sonya snorted.

“Thank you, Doctor,” Hakim nodded at her encouragingly.

Najia inclined her head slightly, switching her gaze from Yaz to the timelord. To her credit, the Doctor didn’t flinch. 

“Right, yeah, so…” the timelord flashed a quick glance at Yaz as she summoned up her courage, “So, we’ve kinda been travelling together for a while now – you know, with Ryan and Ryan’s granddad, Graham.”

“Where are they now?” Sonya asked, her face a little flushed at the mention of Ryan.

“Oh, I think they’ve been sorting a few things out in Grace’s flat – we’ll catch up with them soon,” the Doctor smiled, realising how much she missed the pair.

“So, you two have been travelling on your own?” Hakim frowned worriedly, “Are you ok? You haven’t run into any trouble have you? Where have you been?”

“Yes, yes, a little, and all over the place,” the Doctor answered.

Sitting forward, she glanced quickly at Yaz for confirmation, and saw her nod. “Now,” she said, focusing on Hakim and Sonya, “do you remember the giant spiders…”

Yaz and Najia sat back in their seats and as one took a long drink of steaming tea.

* * *

“So, let me get this straight – you met Sherlock Holmes?” Hakim looked at them both, eyes wide with amazement. 

“Yeah,” the Doctor grinned back at him, “and it was amazin’.”

“Can you take me to meet Lady Gaga – since you’ve got a spaceship and all?” Sonya leaned forwards, looking at the pair in new-found wonder.

“Honestly,” Yaz rolled her eyes, “the Doctor’s just told you she’s got a machine that travels in space and time and you want to go celebrity-spotting?”

“I mean, she’s got a point,” the Doctor scrunched up her face in approval, “the performance when she wins her third Oscar is pretty spectacular.”

“She wins three Oscars?” Sonya gasped. 

“Oof, sorry, spoilers!” the Doctor bit her lip, and Yaz laughed, punching her lightly on the arm.

“They’ve met Sherlock Holmes,” Hakim repeated, turning to his wife and shaking his head with delight, “Sherlock Holmes!” 

“Yes, wonderful, darling,” Najia smiled, before looking back across the table at the blonde, “but I’m still waiting on that explanation, Doctor.”

The chatter around the table fell silent once more and a sense of expectation crackled in the air. The timelord’s face slid once again into an expression of mild panic, and she took a deep breath as she tried to school her thoughts into words.

“Well – um –”

“I’ve got this,” Yaz muttered, shooting her a small smile and slipping her hand into the Doctor’s under the table. The timelord grinned gratefully at her and together they turned to face her family.

“Mum,” she sat up a little straighter, trying to brush off the weight of her mother’s gaze, “last time we were here you asked us if we were seeing each other.”

Sonya’s mouth fell open and Hakim looked intently on. 

“And I told you the truth – we weren’t,” she continued doggedly.

“Yeah, and I genuinely didn’t know,” the Doctor added unhelpfully, and Yaz squeezed her hand to shut her up.

Najia’s face remained impassive, unreadable.

“But as the Doctor explained – even though it’s been a few days for you, it’s been a few weeks for us. And a lot has happened – crazy adventures, a few scrapes here and there, Sherlock Holmes –”

Out of the corner of her eye she saw her father’s face light up again.

“ – and things have – _changed_ – between us too,” she felt the Doctor lace their fingers together more firmly, bolstering them.

She didn’t see Sonya reach for her pocket and pull out her phone. 

“So, Mum,” she met the dark eyes, summoning up her last scraps of courage, “why don’t you ask us again?” 

Najia looked at her daughter, a slight smile tugging at her lips.

“Ok,” she cleared her throat, “are you two seeing each other?”

Yaz and the Doctor exchanged a glace, while the Khans looked on expectantly. Sonya quietly flipped her phone into ‘record’ mode.

_Ding-dong_

The doorbell cut through the silence, and they all looked around in confusion. 

_Ding-dong_

This time the bell was followed up with a sharp rap.

“Are we expecting anyone else?” Hakim looked around at them all and was met with frowns. 

Getting up he walked over to the door, opening it and peering curiously out at the strange pair that stood there.

“Hello, can I help?”

“We’re looking for two people – we think one of them might live here?” the familiar lilt of a female voice echoed down the hall.

“Specifically, a hot doc in braces and a kickass brunette – seen ‘em?” a cheeky American drawl followed up.

At the breakfast table, Yaz and the Doctor turned to each other, confusion and delight written across their faces.

“Jack?”

“Gwen?” 

“No way!”

***** TO BE CONTINUED *****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I hope you enjoyed that! :D Clearly there's still more chats to be had, but the plot must go on!
> 
> Thank you for your continued support and Najia stanning! What a woman! Now it's time to revisit old friends...
> 
> Weird week, but when isn't it? Hope you're all doing ok! Phantom x


	35. A Blast from the Past

The pair sprang up and rushed into the hallway. With a shout of joy they were pulled into twin hugs – Jack laughing into the Doctor’s hair as she flung herself into his embrace, and Gwen and Yaz giggling together, both talking at once.

“Yasmin, are you going to introduce us?” Najia called, coming to stand at the end of the hallway.

“Are these space friends, too?” Hakim smiled, glad to see his daughter so happy.

“Oh, sorry!” Yaz grinned, her face flushed, “Yeah – I’d like you all to meet our friends.”

“Detective Gwen Cooper,” Gwen stuck out her hand with a smile.

“Oh, do you know Yasmin through the force?” Hakim took her hand, shaking it warmly.

“Not exactly,” Gwen grinned, shooting Yaz a look, “I work for Torchwood now.”

“And what’s that?” Najia stepped forwards, also taking Gwen’s hand. 

“Well, see, we have a base in Cardiff and it’s our job to –”

“They protect us from alien-life that ends up on Earth,” Yaz finished, watching the slight flicker of surprise on her mother’s face.

“Of course,” Najia nodded after a slight pause, taking it into her stride and turning to the American, “and you are?”

“Captain Jack Harkness m’am,” Jack smiled handsomely, “and might I just say, I can certainly see where Yaz gets her looks and her confidence from.”

“Oh,” Najia said, taking his hand and blushing slightly.

“For a moment there,” Jack continued smoothly, “I thought you must be her older sister.” 

“ _Jack!_ ” three voices chorused, rolling their eyes.

“Oh,” Najia repeated, for once very much lost for words.

Hakim stepped over to his wife, smiling and kissing her cheek, “And why is it that you never listen to me when I tell you how beautiful you are?”

“I…” but just like her daughter of late, Najia was lost for words.

“And who is this?” Jack raised an eyebrow, smiling as Sonya’s head appeared from around the corner of the hall.

“That’s my sister, Sonya,” Yaz replied, beckoning her nearer.

“Hi,” Sonya said, eyeing Jack and Gwen thoughtfully, “Yaz, what is it with your new friends – why are they all so – ”

“Impossibly handsome? Charming? Dashing?” Jack sighed as he ran a hand through his dark hair.

“I was gonna say ‘weirdly dressed’?” Sonya raised an eyebrow, looking from the Doctor’s braces to the Captain’s military coat.

Jack barked a laugh and looked at Yaz, “Hah! You two are _so_ related.”

“Right,” Najia interrupted, her face still a little flushed, “So what exactly are you doing here, Captain? Detective? This is hardly Cardiff.”

“And it’s not 2006?” the Doctor muttered quietly so that only the pair could hear.

“So,” Gwen looked around at them all, “after you left we were running a few scans, you know, looking for rift activity, and we came across this,” she pulled a small cube out of her pocket, holding it out for inspection.

“Oooh, gaudinium? I haven’t seen this in a long time,” the Doctor picked the little cube up, weighing it in her hands, “it’s lighter than I remember.”

As she passed it to Yaz, the young officer flinched slightly, the glint of strange metal setting off alarm bells in her head. She drew her hand back, feeling for her sternum and the still-healing ribs.

“It’s ok,” the Doctor said softly, sudden understanding flooding her eyes, “it can’t hurt you, I promise.”

Gwen squeezed Yaz’s arm, lightly, “She’s right, it’s safe – we’ve run all the scans.”

“Hang on,” Najia stepped forward, squaring up to the Doctor, “this isn’t like that glove thing, is it? Because if you ever let my daughter get hurt like that again, I –” 

“So, you told them, huh?” Jack raised an eyebrow at Yaz, who was trying to insert herself between her mother and the timelord.

“Mum, the Doctor would never deliberately let anyone get hurt – if anything, she saved me! And it wasn’t her fault,” she turned to catch the timelord’s eye, still speaking to her mother, “it was mine – I’ve always been one to throw myself in headfirst, and now I’ve got someone who I trust to always catch me.”

The Doctor nodded slowly, acknowledging the underlying message. She wanted more than anything to pull Yaz close, to kiss her and promise her those things over and over, but given the small crowd gathered in the hallway, she opted instead to take her warm hand in hers. 

“Yaz’s Mum,” she said, pulling Yaz to one side and turning to face the Khans

“Najia, please.”

“Sorry, Najia,” the Doctor apologised, meeting the matriarch’s serious gaze, “please understand that I would never put your daughter in danger, not if I can help it. I’m not saying that travelling with me is safe – far from it - and I’ve told Yaz that over and over.”

Najia’s mouth quirked into a half smile, “And I bet she doesn’t listen to you either?” 

The Doctor chuckled, “Not one bit.”

“Oi! The cheek!” Yaz spluttered.

Waving aside the comment, the Doctor continued, “So I’m sorry, Najia, but I can’t promise her safety – I’ve done that before and well…” she tailed off, exchanging a sad look with Jack.

“So why should I let you take my daughter with you? It’s only been a few weeks and from what you’ve told me there’s already been twisted ankles, burns, and a near-drowning. What sort of life is that?”

The crowded hallway was silent, five pairs of eyes trained on the showdown between Najia and the timelord. 

The Doctor continued to meet Najia’s gaze, unflinching. She squeezed Yaz’s hand and felt her return the gesture, bolstering her spirit and emboldening her words.

“Najia, I can’t promise to protect Yaz from the world, or even from all the other worlds out there, but I can promise you that I will try.” She swallowed, feeling the warmth of Yaz’s hand in hers, grounding her, “I love your daughter, and I will fight every minute of every day in every galaxy to prove that to her and to you.” 

She could feel Yaz’s sharp intake of breath next to her, and out of the corner of her eye, Sonya’s iPhone aimed in their direction.

“You have brought up a kind, brave, wonderful daughter, and I can understand why you’d be worried to let her go. She may be headstrong and reckless at times, but if you will let me, if you have some faith in me – I promise you this – I will never be reckless with her heart.” 

“You once asked us if we were seeing each other,” she looked to her side, meeting Yaz’s adoring smile, before turning to Hakim and Najia, “and, well, if there’s a star that burns brighter than my love for her, I’m yet to see it.”

The hallway was silent once more as the Doctor’s words echoed around. All eyes were now on Najia, breath held as they awaited her verdict.

“You’ll promise to bring her back for holidays and birthdays?”

The words were loud in the silence.

“Yes, anytime!” the Doctor nodded enthusiastically, feeling Yaz’s hand squeezed tightly in her own 

“And if she gets injured, you’ll let me know?”

“Yes, of course!” 

“And…” Najia paused, a smile tickling her lips, “if you need _invites_ sending out any time, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

The spell was broken.

“Oh, _Mum_!” Yaz blushed, burying her head in the Doctor’s shoulder.

“Bravo, that woman!” Jack laughed, shaking Hakim’s hand again, “Congratulations, sir, your wife is just brilliant!” 

Hakim meanwhile was looking a little dazed but smiling widely as he pulled the Doctor into a hug, “Thank you, for looking after my little girl, thank you.”

Gwen had thrown her arm around Yaz’s shoulder and was laughing delightedly as they exchanged knowing looks. Sonya, meanwhile, surreptitiously slid her phone back into her pocket. 

“Honestly,” she smirked, punching Yaz lightly on the arm, “Kardashian’s eat your heart out – I thought Mum was gonna explode for a minute.”

“Me too,” Yaz grinned back, accepting the sisterly declaration for what it was, “thanks, Son, but if you think for one second I’m gonna let you put that little video of yours on social media…”

“What video?” Sonya grinned, ducking out of reach and running back to her room, pocketing her phone with a smirk.

“She’d better not…” Yaz muttered, narrowing her eyes at her sister’s retreating form.

“Better not what?” the Doctor murmured, sounding slightly dazed.

“Don’t worry,” Yaz replied, feeling her smile return as she reached up to tuck a blond tuft behind the Doctor’s ear. Leaning forward, she pressed her mouth to the same ear, feeling the cold of the silver cuff against her lips and shivering slightly.

“Thank you,” she whispered, low enough for only the timelord to hear, “thank you for what you said.”

The Doctor scrunched up her neck, giggling as Yaz’s breath tickled the tiny hairs, “That’s ok, but can you stop blowing on my ear? It’s making me all duck-pimply.” 

“Goose!” Yaz snorted, muttering one final suggestion, before pulling away, “But only if I can do this again when we’re alone later…”

The Doctor shivered again, but this time for an entirely different reason.

* * *

“Ok, so this cube thing? What did you call it, Doctor?” Najia was pouring out cups of tea for all of them as they sat around the table. She could only take so many shock declarations whilst huddled in the crowded hallway, and soon ushered them all back in to the kitchen with suggestions of a hot brew.

“It’s gaudinium,” the Doctor replied through a mouthful of Jammy Dodger.

“Right… and what exactly is that?”

Swallowing, the Doctor cleared her throat, leaning forward to begin her explanation, “It’s a material from Jakobeet, in the Sonstrum galaxy, and it’s mostly used as a source of fuel. It’s pretty amazin’ really because it’s made from emotions.”

“Emotions?” 

“Yeah – happiness, grief, anger – all the usual. Well, the Jakobeeti have found a way to sorta harness these emotions and compress them into a physical form. Fantastic technology – no waste products because any spare pieces just get reabsorbed into the nearest life-form. And it’s totally renewable – just feeling its warmth is enough to replenish the emote-levels, and then you can harvest even more fuel. The strongest emotions - happiness, joy – produce the best fuel, and the best bit is that burning those gives off huge waves of bliss. It’s the perfect energy source – literally good, clean fun!” 

Yaz watched her as she held her audience captive, adoring how her whole face lit up, eyes sparkling and radiant. Forget the gaudinium, she thought, for the Doctor was her unstoppable source of joy.

“That’s brilliant!” Hakim enthused, the wonder of discovery written across his features, mirroring his daughter’s. 

“Yeah, brilliant,” Yaz echoed, feeling her cheeks flush as the Doctor’s excited eyes met hers.

“But if you’re saying it’s from… Jakobeet, or wherever,” Najia frowned, her interest peaked, “why is it here on Earth?” 

“Excellent question!” the Doctor nodded, before pausing with a wicked grin, “And I’ve absolutely no idea!”

“That’s where we come in,” Gwen spoke, pulling the little cube out and placing it on the table, “and not to rock the boat, but it’s a tad more complicated than just ‘here on Earth’.”

“See,” Jack nodded, steepling his fingers and leaning forwards, “we’re not strictly from around here.” 

“Yes, you said Cardiff, right?” Najia replied, keeping up. 

“Yeah – it’s more that we’re not strictly from around here and now?”

“Pardon?”

“Well,” Jack glanced at the Doctor and Yaz, “we followed these two not long after they left us…” he paused for dramatic effect, “…in 2006.”

“Huh?” Hakim’s remark was less a question, more a confused noise.

“We – I mean, the Doctor and I – travelled back in the TARDIS, her ship,” Yaz explained hastily, “remember I told you about the whole time travel thing?”

“Yes, I remember,” her father nodded slowly, “but I’m just trying to get my head around it all. And how did you two get here then?”

“An excellent question, Yaz’s Dad,” the Doctor grinned, before turning to her friends, “Jack?”

“You forgot about this,” he flashed her a grin, rolling his sleeve up, “vortex manipulator, baby!”

“Some sort of personal time-travel device?” Najia raised an eyebrow, while her husband looked on open-mouthed. 

“Brains _and_ beauty,” Jack threw her his most charming wink and Najia flushed pink.

“Yeah, but why?” Yaz frowned, rolling her eyes in her mother’s direction, “Why did it lead you to Sheffield in 2019?”

“Simple,” Gwen shrugged, “we had to find you guys – we’ve hit a bit of a dead end with this one, and Jack thought you might be able to help.”

“Plus,” Jack grinned, shooting the pair a filthy look, “I just _had_ to follow-up on the romance of the century – sofa-beds beware!” 

Yaz groaned, cheeks crimson and looking anywhere but at her parents. The Doctor meanwhile inhaled her mouthful of tea, spluttering and coughing as Hakim patted her gingerly on the back.

The soon-to-be awkward silence was however punctuated by another unprecedented arrival.

 _KNOCK-KNOCK!_

“Seriously?” Najia sighed, as Hakim once more made his way to the door.

Yaz raised her eyes to meet the Doctor’s, face still burning.  

“D’you think…?”

The Doctor grinned, still coughing slightly.

“I mean, who else?” 

***** TO BE CONTINUED *****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Intrigue? Even more Najia? A romantic declaration?
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! Long week ahead, and all your comments keep me going :D Hope it's all still making sense! Love and hugs to all, Phantom x


	36. Getting the Team Back Together

They heard the catch as Hakim answered the door to unexpected visitors for the second time that morning. Five heads peered down the hall trying to catch a glimpse of the new arrivals. 

“Ah, good morning, sir, sorry for the intrusion but we’re looking for some friends of ours?”

“DOCTOR? YAZ?” 

“Seriously, you have got to stop yelling into people’s flats like that – it’s rude!” 

“Just thank me when it works? DOC-TOR?! YA-AZ?”

Catching each other’s eyes, the pair in question snorted with surprised laughter as the familiar bickering of men’s voices reached their ears. 

“Come on through, boys!” Yaz called out, as the Doctor pulled a couple of small stools over to the table.

After a few scuffling noises – the removal of shoes and coats – Hakim returned to the kitchen followed by two men, one short with tufts of light brown hair and a cable-knit jumper, the other tall and gaunt with windswept curly dark hair.

“Everyone,” Yaz grinned, “meet Sherlock Holmes and Dr John Watson.” 

There was a moment of stunned silence, punctuated only by a delighted intake of breath from Hakim. Then the room burst into an explosion of voices.

“Seriously? Right, Hakim, kettle!” 

“… hey what’s going – ooh, are we having a fancy-dress party? Bring your own weirdo?”

“Love the cheekbones – you could really do yourself some damage on those…”

“ _Stop it_ – hi, really great to meet you. My boyfriend won’t _believe_ I’ve met you!”

“… wow…” 

“You guys! What are you doing here? This is turning out to be an amazin’ day!”

“Great to see you both – sorry for all this – have a seat and I’ll grab you both a cuppa.”

“Cheers, Yaz, that would be great – one sugar for me and black for this one.”

“Earl grey if you have it… and who’s the American?”

Jack stepped forwards, seizing Sherlock by the hand and shaking it warmly.

“Captain Jack Harkness, and you can solve my case _any_ time.”

“And, um, what sort of captain would that be?” John frowned slightly, looking Jack up and down with suspicion, “Because I’ve served, and that uniform is just a tad outdated.”

“Well, strictly speaking, I’m more of a flyboy,” Jack replied with a wink.

“Military coat, deerstalker, and cable-knit?” Sonya eyed up the three men, settling down at the table once again, “It’s like an episode of ‘What Not To Wear’ in here.”

“Mmm, the last time I was on that show I got _thoroughly_ defabricated,” Jack pinged his braces and chuckled with a glance at the Doctor. 

“Remind me never to go on a TV show again!” the blonde grinned back, the warm brush of nostalgia lighting up her face. 

“Hang on,” Sonya raise an eyebrow, “you two were on telly?” 

“A long time ago in the future,” Jack smirked, eyes returning to rake up and down Sherlock’s thin frame, “so if you ever want to know about what _up and coming_ , Mr Holmes…”

“It’s _consulting detective_ actually,” Sherlock drawled, his cheeks pinkening slightly.

“Yeah, well, I’m glad you’re both acquainted, but shall we do the rest of the introductions?” John muttered, narrowing his eyes at Jack for a second, before turning to Yaz and the Doctor.

Grinning at the thinly veiled jealousy, Yaz pointed around the room in turn, “Course – this is my Mum and Dad, and my little sister Sonya –”

“Oi, less of the ‘little’!” 

Ignoring this, Yaz continued, “– and this is Gwen Cooper and Jack from Torchwood, and, well, you know the Doctor.”

The timelord waved cheerily at them, “Hi-yah!” 

“I see you two finally got it together then?” Sherlock said with a quirk of one eyebrow. 

Yaz blushed, and the Doctor opened and shut her mouth while Jack and Sonya laughed.

“Despite having separate stools, you’re sitting incredibly close together – obviously comfortable in each other’s personal space. There’s been a lot of looks exchanged between you in the last few minutes, many of which linger over intimate areas: lips, eyes, collar-bones. Your body language is relaxed but flirtatious – a brush of the hand here, a touch of the shoulder there. Both of your pupils are a little dilated, and your respiration rate responds in kind to the merest touch. And, I’m sorry Doctor, but those marks on your neck are a dead giveaway, not to mention a perfect mapping of the internal and common carotid artieres… now, what happened to that tea?”

As he looked over to kettle, he saw Hakim standing there, mouth open and shaking his head with wonderment. Gwen and Jack were shaking with laughter, wiping tears from their eyes, while Sonya chuckled to herself. Najia was narrowing her eyes at her eldest, who was doing her level best to look anywhere but at her mother. The Doctor had clasped her hands to her neck in an attempt to hide the love-bites, flushing bright red, partly in embarrassment, partly due to intimate sensory flashbacks of the previous night.

“That… was that a deduction?” Hakim said, mouth still half-open, “Because that was amazing.” 

“Show-off,” John muttered, feeling the usual peculiar sense of pride when his friend reeled off his thoughts like that.

Sherlock smirked, enjoying John’s reaction, “Thank you, Mr Khan, I take it you’ve heard of my work?”

“Oh, you’re the best person I’ve ever read about – your adventures are legendary,” Hakim replied, wonder in his voice. “I can’t believe you’re real though – I mean, it’s fantastic! But I thought you more… fictional?” 

“Well I’m here, aren’t I?” Sherlock shrugged, spreading his arms out

“You bet you are,” Jack smirked, and Gwen smacked him lightly on the arm with a muttered reprimand.

“Well, I suppose it makes as much sense as anything these days,” Hakim nodded with a grin, “Giant spiders, time travel, my daughter… dating! So, Sherlock Holmes, why not?” 

Sonya snorted with laughter and Yaz slid further down her chair.

Sherlock nodded, and accepted the steaming mug that Hakim presented him with, “So,” he addressed the room at large, “I expect you’re all wondering why John and I are here?”

“Yeah, not that it’s not great to see you and all,” the Doctor looked up, her words a little jumbled, “but what are you boys doing in this neck of the woods?”

“Well,” John said slowly, walking over to one of the spare stools and sitting down with his cup, “it all began a few weeks ago when I was at the surgery…”

* * *

As John finished his tale of the rising levels of paediatric patients on his books and their strange stories, he felt about in the pocket of his duffel coat, drawing out an object and laying it on the table.

“Then someone left this in an envelope in my tray.”

Drawing his hand away, he revealed the small, metallic cube, it’s swirling surface glittering up at them. 

“Oh, seriously?” Gwen gasped, leaning in to examine the little cube.

“But isn’t that gaudinium?” Najia asked, considering the object with sharp eyes.

“How do you know that?” Sherlock looked at her curiously over steepled fingers.

“Because this is what brought us here,” Gwen frowned, taking out Torchwood’s cube and placing it onto the table next to the other.

There was a moment of quiet as the small crowd looked around at each other, confusion etching itself across their collective brows.

“Ok, so we’ve got two cubes of alien material showing up in two different timelines, in two different cities, both of which somehow lead you here to my parent’s flat in Sheffield?” Yaz summarised, not sure what any of it meant.

“Different timelines?” John frowned.

“Yeah, we’re from 2006,” Jack shrugged, indicating himself and Gwen.

“Of course you are, of course…” the sandy-haired doctor muttered, pressing his lips together and nodding, his eyebrow making their trademark rise up to his hairline.

Sherlock meanwhile had been quizzing the Doctor on the material the cube was made from. He nodded sincerely, taking in the somewhat bizarre information as a matter of course.

“Makes sense, emotions are pretty powerful things,” he muttered at last, with the briefest glance in John’s direction, “so harnessing them as fuel is an incredibly efficient use of technology.” 

“I know, right?” the Doctor grinned at him, nodding enthusiastically as they compared the little cubes.

“But as Yasmin was saying,” Najia frowned, “isn’t it a bit odd that you both,” she indicated the two pairs, “found a cube that led you to our door?”

“Speaking of which,” Yaz added, “how exactly did you find us, boys? Jack’s got a link to the TARDIS with the vortex manipulator but –”

“Vortex _what_ now?” John crinkled his brow further. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know, doc?” Jack winked, flashing his wrist at the shorter man, “Though I’d love to take Cheekbones for a spin through time and space…”

Gwen smacked him on the arm again, while Yaz snorted into her tea at the combination of John’s look of horror and Sherlock’s sly blush.

“Right,” she sniggered, trying to keep her own face straight, “but how did you find your way here?” 

“Well, obviously, because you left us your address?”

“When?” 

“Ok, maybe it wasn’t your address, but you did give me your name and rank.”

“And that’s the same thing, how exactly?” 

“Well…” 

“Sherlock, did you get your brother to do a background check on me?!”

“… maybe?” 

He ducked just in time as Yaz threw a piece of toast at his head. Then there was a small kerfuffle as Najia scolded her daughter and Hakim loudly professed his admiration for the other Holmes brother. Sonya flipped her phone out and began diligently filming the whole thing. 

Highly amused, Jack and the Doctor rolled their eyes at each other. 

“Now come on, you guys” Gwen said with a last snigger of laughter, “can we get back to the small matter of this alien tech before someone loses an eye?”

The table quietened slightly, the group drawing their attention once more to the small square tablets of fuel.

“As I was saying before,” Gwen continued, casting her mind back to a simpler time, “Tosh ran all sorts of scans after we found this little cube, and they all turned up blanks. All we can say for certain is that the traces seemed to change when different people handled the artefact.”

The Doctor nodded, “Makes sense – it was probably reacting to different emotions. ‘Cos when I pick it up I feel jittery and excited.”

She passed one cube to John and one to Yaz.

“Yeah well, it’s making me feel a bit grumpy – I’m probably just tired,” John muttered, casting a dark glance in Jack’s direction.

“And I feel really happy and proud and… umm.. yup, that’s it,” Yaz trailed off, feeling the heat rise in her face as unbidden images sprung into her mind.

“Ok,” the Doctor continued on, allowing herself the slyest of grins in Yaz’s direction, “so it reacts to us. The question is, how did it get to be in both 2006 Cardiff and 2019 Baker Street?” 

The table was quiet again and as they considered the implications.

“It’s you, Doctor,” Najia finally spoke up, her brow knitted in a quiet frown.

“Huh?” the blonde blinked back at her, shaking herself out of her reverie.

“You’re the reason they’re all here – the reason the cubes are here – they’re following you, right?” 

“Oh,” the Doctor looked down, eyeing up the small squares, before meeting her steady gaze.

“Strangeness and danger seem to be your constant companions, Doctor…” Najia said quietly, her eyes flickering to Yaz and back.

“Oh,” the Doctor repeated, her voice a little smaller, feeling herself shrink slightly under the weight of those words.

Under the table, a small hand slipped into hers and gave it a squeeze.

“Well,” Yaz said firmly, “if that’s true, we’ll just have to get a shift on and figure out what to do about them, right?”

A smile perking her lips, the Doctor looked at her, a soft warmth reaching her eyes. 

“Yeah… I mean, yeah! Of course!” she turned back to Najia, solemnity coating her voice, “We will get to the bottom of this and no-one is gonna get hurt.”

The tension eased a little and the room at large began to breathe again. 

And then Sonya started to scream. 

***** TO BE CONTINUED *****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! I'd toyed with introducing Micky and Martha, but I foresee Jack and Sherlock's interactions just being the stuff of comedy gold. I hope you enjoyed! That's a lot of voices to manage (and a lot of personalities)...
> 
> Also, apologies for the late update. Last week was another 70h clanger of a work-week, and then I had a really lovely date on Saturday and well... things got a little sidetracked? But don't worry - I've no intention of letting this fic slide! Hope you're all having a great week, Phantom x


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